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 was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. "Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. \"I'm going to his baseball game, he's pitching for Lincoln, and then I believe he is taking me to dinner. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one.
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