” She replied. “Please don’t,” she said. She refused to eat. She had been going with a twenty-two year old man named Julian Rimbauer in secret. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. The less she lived, in fact, the better. Knap. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited.
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