She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. She infused menace into her voice. "Help!—help, Mr. . To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death.
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