" "If I do, I care not," rejoined Wild; "I shall have lived to see you hanged. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. He tried this sentence with expletives. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet.
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