. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. “It was the night you left Paris. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. “I never dreamt!” she said. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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