But it was extraordinary what seemingly irrelevant things could restore her to the thought of Capes again. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. \" She opened the front door with her keys, stepping inside. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. 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. It is not for myself I fear.
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