But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father.
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