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Updated: May 19, 2025
The inner lips, the nymphæ or labia minora, running parallel with the greater lips which enclose them, embrace the clitoris anteriorly and extend backward, enclosing the urethral exit between them as well as the vaginal entrance. They form little wings whence their old Latin name, alæ, and from their resemblance to the cock's comb were by Spigelius termed crista galli.
No fire, no sunlight, no books, no flowers; but a consoling smell of red cabbage coming up under the door, mixed, in due season, with soapsuds." "When did you go there?" asked Minora. "Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? I have been calling there all my life."
"Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany." "I never know," complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, "whether you are in earnest or not." "Don't you?" said Irais sweetly. "Is it true," appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons in the background, "that your law classes women with children and idiots?"
But on a brilliant winter's day my conscience is as clear as the frosty air itself, and yesterday morning we started off in the gayest of spirits, even Minora being disposed to laugh immoderately on the least provocation.
Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold," cried Irais solicitously. "Well, it isn't exactly warm, is it?" said Minora sulkily; and Irais pinched me. "Well, but think how much colder you would have been without all that fur you ate for lunch inside you," she said.
"You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora," she said. "He isn't on a box to-day," said I; "and I never knew him to go to sleep standing up behind us on a sleigh." But Minora was not to be appeased, and muttered something about seeing no fun in foolhardiness, which shows how alarmed she was, for it was rude.
"You must have belonged to a particularly nice set," remarked Irais. "And as for politics," he said, "I have never heard them mentioned among women." "Children and idiots are not interested in such things," I said. "And we are much too frightened of being put in prison," said Irais. "In prison?" echoed Minora.
And here is the song of an old poet whom Neaera cheated: "Nox erat, et coelo fulgebat Luna sereno Inter minora sidera, Cum tu magnorum numen laesura deorum In verba jurubas mea." Don't you perceive the sonorousness of these old dead Latin phrases?
It was bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to laugh with us as she had been six hours before. "Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora? inquired Irais, as we got out of the forest on to the chaussee, and the lights of the village before ours twinkled in the distance. "How many degrees do you suppose there are now?" was Minora's reply to this question. "Degrees?
Minora wrote a long description of them for a chapter of her book which is headed Noel, I saw that much, because she left it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. They were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said to be natural to take to one's own countrymen, I am unable altogether to sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection.
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