She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. ‘And nor do I. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald.
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