To be no longer with Martha was strange. She put her head out of the window. 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. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. Wherever I saw him, I should pick him out as a man designed by nature to plan and accomplish the wonderful escapes he has effected. “It is concerning—our future relations,” Sir John pronounced ponderously. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it.
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