Very shortly after the removal from Cailsham, she made her declaration of independence.
"Mother," she said, one morning at breakfast, "I'm going to earn my own living." The baby lines of her mouth set tight, and her chin puckered.
Mrs.Bishop laid down her piece of toast.

"I wish you wouldn't talk nonsense, Sally," she said.
The young man down from Oxford ejaculated-- "Rot!" "It's not rot--it's not nonsense!" Her voice was petulant; there were tears in it.

It was not a decision of strength.

Here the press-gang was at work driving the unwilling conscript.

She was going; there was no doubt about her going; but it was a hard struggle to feel resigned.
"But it _is_ nonsense," said Mrs.Bishop.
"How do you think _you_ could earn your living ?" said the young man.
He knew something about the matter; he was trying to find employment himself--he, a 'Varsity man--and as yet nothing had offered itself.
"If I can't get anything to do," he added sententiously, "how on earth do you think you're going to ?" "She doesn't mean it," said Sally's eldest sister.