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. One who steals. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money.
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