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. It was painful to want him so much. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. It may bring us together again. But what I want to get at is this. Then we find out. They exchanged greetings with the clarinetist.
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