Then the foremost bowed and passed on. “DEAR MR. “Home, of course,” she answered. And so Winifred understood him. Salvation. And it's uncanny. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. 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. And, now, to find a messenger.
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