The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. 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. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. “I was sick of the make-believe. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history.
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