” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. 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. ” “Have I done something wrong? Should I take you home?” “No. His name is Taber?" "Howard Taber. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger.
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