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. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. She answered slowly. He went on with intense urgency. "And now to see the end of it," said Jonathan, shortly afterwards passing through the window. She may afford us some necessary information. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. The afternoon had passed now into twilight.
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