She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. It must be somewhere hereabouts. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. She had made her first fight for dignity and freedom as a grown-up and independent Person, and this was how the universe had treated her.
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