Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. 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. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. It is so ridiculous. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. "'A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
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