She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. Go, and let him in. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. He—wanted to marry me. She did not wince. “What, you don’t think that you can afford it? Lucy, with your musical talent, you’ll get a full ride. 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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