" "No," answered the ruffian, moodily. 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. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend.
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