"It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. . If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. 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. Sheppard looked round, and exchanged kindly glances with several of those who addressed him. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood. It was clear that he meant to kiss her before she exited the car.
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