” She laughed. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. The servants had left the room. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. She had not anticipated such a response from her classmates, but knew to be drawing them with her self-consciousness as if they were bees to pollen.
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