' But, Alan, I can't. I feel _I_ must face it. Unless one
woman begins, there will be no beginning." She lifted his hand in
her own, and fondled it in her turn with caressing tenderness.
"Think how easy it would be for me, dear friend," she cried, with
a catch in her voice, "to do as other women do; to accept the
HONORABLE MARRIAGE you offer me, as other women would call it; to
be false to my sex, a traitor to my convictions; to sell my kind
for a mess of pottage, a name and a home, or even for thirty pieces
of silver, to be some rich man's wife, as other women have sold it.
But, Alan, I can't. My conscience won't let me. I know what
marriage is, from what vile slavery it has sprung; on what unseen
horrors for my sister women it is reared and buttressed; by what
unholy sacrifices it is sustained, and made possible. I know it
has a history, I know its past, I know its present, and I can't
embrace it; I can't be untrue to my most sacred beliefs. I can't
pander to the malignant thing, just because a man who loves me
would be pleased by my giving way and would kiss me, and fondle me
for it.
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