Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. 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. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. "Ay, good luck to him! so we have," rejoined Terence; "but we've no objection to take out the dochter's bill in drink. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. Why not? Quite willing. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute.
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