I assure you it left the whole question of the subjection of women quite untouched.
The moon knew all about it but, feminine herself, she favoured the deception.

Around the girl's dark head she drew a circle of light.

The branching tendrils of her hair, all alive and fanlike now in the coolness of the night, made a nimbus of black and silver from which her shadowed face shone like a faint pure pearl.

As he seemed younger, so did she seem older; under the moon she was no longer a child, but a woman with mysterious eyes.
An impulse came to him--the rare impulse of confidence! Suddenly it seemed that what he had mistaken for self-sufficiency had been in reality loneliness.

He had learned to live to himself not because he was of himself sufficient but because no one else, save the Button Moulder, had ever come within speaking distance.