They are merely Nature's correctives.

Of definite change in the position of women they will effect nothing.
They are not regulars in the great army; only the wandering adventurers who take up arms for any cause, that they may be in the noise of the battle.

It is the paid army--the regular troops--who finally place the standard upon the enemy's heights; for it is only the forces of Life itself that, in this life, are unconquerable.
This, then, is Miss Hallard--adventuress in a great philosophy.

Her thin lips, her shifting, disconcerting eyes, set deep beneath the brows; the long and narrow face, the high forehead on which the hair hangs heavily; that thin, reedy body, that ill-formed, unnatural breast which never was meant to suckle a child or nurse the drooping of a man's head--all these are the signs of her calling.

A woman--by the irony of a fate that has thwarted the original design of Nature.
Sally Bishop is a woman before everything.