She is the appeal of Nature. She draws men as the sun draws planets.
Her power is deep, cosmic, as strong and as mysterious as gravitation.
She is the embodiment of love, which is the most persistent, evergreen, and irresistible of human motives.
However forceful her individuality she cannot lose her strange drawing power.
She is passionate, but differs from her weakling sisters in that her passion is unswervingly loyal.
All the cumulative morality of centuries of conscience centers in her love.
She clings, not from subservience, but from a loyalty as intense as sex itself.
She is free. No man owns her soul nor body. She gives, as sovereign queens give. She cannot barter as commoner women barter, she cannot obey as slaves obey, she cannot yield as cowards yield.
She is void of egotism; she is full of self-reverence.
She is happy in girlhood, contented in wifehood, glorified in motherhood.