It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. She could not see clearly. There were three other ships at anchor; but as two would be making Shanghai and one rounding to Singapore two days hence, it was logically certain that no fugitive would seek haven in one of these. 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. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. She’s got a great imagination. This isn't your island, child; it's the great world. .
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