If poor, broken, ruined Glenn Kilbourne could cling to an ideal and fight for it, could not she, who had all the world esteemed worth while, be woman enough to do the same?
The direction of her thought seemed to have changed.

She had been ready for rebellion.

Three months of the old life had shown her that for her it was empty, vain, farcical, without one redeeming feature.

The naked truth was brutal, but it cut clean to wholesome consciousness.

Such so-called social life as she had plunged into deliberately to forget her unhappiness had failed her utterly.