I have been in torment all the while to know whether it was to Anna or to Annabel that you were making love so charmingly. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Night and day have been alike to me.
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