dBooks desire

In Paris the beautiful, on a bright and brisk day it is
all but impossible to despair when one still has left
youth and health. Mildred was not happy--far from
it. The future, the immediate future, pressed its
terrors upon her. But in mitigation there was, perhaps
born of youth and inexperience, a giddy sense of relief.
She had not realized how abhorrent the general was--
married life with the general. She had been resigning
herself to it, accepting it as the only thing possible,
keeping it heavily draped with her vanities of wealth
and luxury--until she discovered that the wealth and
the luxury were in reality no more hers than they were
her maid's. And now she was free!
That word free did not have its full meaning for her.
She had never known what real freedom was; women
of the comfortable class--and men, too, for that matter--
usually are born into the petty slavery of conventions
at least, and know nothing else their whole lives
through--never know the joy of the thought and the
act of a free mind and a free heart.


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