They stood back together and stared at it. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. Come and see him, Lucia. ” “Then I,” she said, “have too much character. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. 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. “What do you think of that?” he asked.
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