God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. And then suddenly—a relief. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. pglaf.
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