At noon the doctor himself arrived. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. You must have figured that out by now. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases. 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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