The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order.
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