She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. The first set of occupations seemed to her to be altogether too domestic and restricted; for the latter she was dreadfully handicapped by her want of experience. The poison from the teeth radiated from her shoulder and paralyzed her limbs. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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