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. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. Lucy looked about confusedly. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. ‘Pitiful. ” Lucy became livid with rage. “Since last night.
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