‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. " "Ah, yes. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. 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. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. Father— dead.
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