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. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. As far as I recollect, there were two. She awoke and found herself home amid a pile of three bodies, one of which she recognized as a former denizen of the household. "Yon's a dear man," said McClintock. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent.
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