'At Oxford they say that marriage is not the only mission for women--
that is to say, for some women. They don't despise marriage, but they
think that for some women there is another mission. When I spoke to
Mrs. Fargus about her marriage, she had to admit that she had written
to her college friends to apologise--no, not to apologise, she said,
but to explain. She was not ashamed, but she thought she owed them an
explanation. Just fancy any of the girls in Sutton being ashamed of
being married!'

The darkness was thick with wandering scents, and Mildred's thoughts
withered in the heat. She closed her eyes; she lay quite still, but
the fever of the night devoured her; the sheet burned like a flame;
she opened her eyes, and was soon thinking as eagerly as before.

She thought of the various possibilities that marriage would shut out
to her for ever. She reproached herself for having engaged herself to
Alfred Stanby, and remembered that Harold had been opposed to the
match, and had refused to give his consent until Alfred was in a
position to settle five hundred a year upon her. ... Alfred would
expect her to keep house for him exactly as she was now keeping house
for her brother. Year after year the same thing, seeing Alfred go away
in the morning, seeing him come home in the evening. That was how her
life would pass. She did not wish to be cruel; she knew that Alfred
would suffer terribly if she broke off her engagement, but it would be
still more cruel to marry him if she did not think she would make him
happy, and the conviction that she would not make him happy pressed
heavily upon her. What was she to do? She could not, she dared not,
face the life he offered her. It would be selfish of her to do so.