"Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. " "We shall expect you to-morrow," insinuated Mrs. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won. She has blue eyes, and her figure is more full. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. "I'm sorry," she said.
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