Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them. Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. She went to her own table and sat down. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively.
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