She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure.
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