CHAPTER V. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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