It was for her power of self-sacrifice that men loved her and made an Ideal of her.

Whatever else woman gave up, she must always retain her power of self-sacrifice if she expected the heart of her husband to rejoice in her.

The home was founded on sacrifice, and woman was the pillar and the ornament of the home.

There was her sphere, her purpose, her mission.

All things outside of that sphere belonged to man, except the privilege of ministering to the sick and the afflicted in other households.
He leaned forward in the old pulpit, his shapely, well-kept hand hanging over the edge in one of his most characteristic gestures; and the autumn sunlight, falling through the plain glass windows, shone on his temples.
Immediately below him, in a front pew, sat his mother, a dried little old woman, with beady black eyes and a pointed chin, which jutted out from between the stiff taffeta strings of her poke bonnet.