"I disbelieve the whole story you have told me. Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr. "You will before I'm done with you. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere.
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