8. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. “You are a funny, a very funny young lady,” he said, “but we waste time here. She gave her lips to his without resistance. I am totally like this on my own. 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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