“I must confess,” he said, “the New Woman and the New Girl intrigue me profoundly. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. I was already established as Physician when your wedding day arrived. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. 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.
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