In a little while she had become practically a different woman.

Of course, she had only developed possibilities which had always been dormant within her, but they had been so dormant, that they had not been to any mortal perception endowed with life.
Hitherto Margaret had walked along the straight and narrow way, sometimes, it is true, jostling circumstances and sometimes being jostled by them, yet keeping to the path.

Now she had turned her feet into that broad way wherein there is room for the utmost self which is in us all.

Henceforth husband and wife would walk apart in a spiritual sense, unless there should come a revolution in the character of the wife, who was the stepper aside.
Margaret seated comfortably on the ferry boat, her little feet crossed so discreetly that only a glimpse of the yellow fluff beneath was visible, was conscious of a not unpleasurable exhilaration.

She might and she might not be about to do something which would place her distinctly outside the pale which had henceforth enclosed her little pleasance of life.