“Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. This foster child’s name was Mary Lucia Iovelli, and we have photographic documents of a woman who looks exactly like you, dear. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjEyMy4yMyAtIDE2LTA2LTIwMjQgMDQ6MDA6NDkgLSAxMzgzMzQzOTQ1
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