She could not do anything better than any of them.

Of course, each time she went out, she became conscious of admiring glances; she could not be woman without such consciousness.

But it was as a girl that men looked at her, not as an equal.

As well as personal experience and the lessons of eyes and ears and intelligence, there were other things to classify and adjust; things which were entirely from the outside of her own life.

The fragments of common-room gossip, which it had been her fortune to hear accidentally now and again.