Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. Here, take this youngster, Terry; my legs are lighter than old Nab's. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you.
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