She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. How will we get there, I’d like to know? We’ve no money. 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.
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