So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then. Lucy wore it every day from then on. 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 had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. He told me with a coarse nervous laugh. He laughed to hide his uneasiness.
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