“I want to be your friend,” he said. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. " The object of this discussion sat motionless. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. You cannot depart hence. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions.
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