She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. "If I could work as fast as you, I might afford to be as idle. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. He remembered it suddenly. “Kindly explain it to me. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. 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.
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