” The men at the reporter’s table lifted their eyebrows, smiled faintly, and leaned back to watch how she took her scolding. 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 tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband.
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