Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park.
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