CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. You're rich. 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. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. "But you've done well to trust me.
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