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Nonsense! She lay down again, pressing her neck deep into
the pillows. It was impossible. She did not want to think
of it, but, unable to dismiss the thought from her mind, she
began a review of recent events. She had not felt quite well
lately, had been tired and worn out, worried and nervous
generally; that was probably why the little she had taken last night
had been too much for her. She could quite understand now
that people become abstemious after a few nights of the kind
she had just experienced. The other matter she would not
consider; if things had gone wrong she would know it in due
time—it was no good worrying unnecessarily. She was going to
sleep; she was so tired—but she could not keep her thoughts
away from that awful subject—ugh!
At the beginning of their relations the possibility of consequences
had quite naturally presented itself to her mind, and
once or twice she had been in the throes of anxiety, but she had
been able to master it and had forced herself to look reasonably
at the matter. What if it were true? The dread of having
a child is really a senseless superstition; it happens every day.
Why should it be worse for her than for any poor working
girl, who was able to provide for herself and her child? The
anxiety was a remnant from the times when an unmarried
woman in similar circumstances had to go to the father or her
relations and confess that she had had a good time, and that
they had to pay the expenses—with the sad prospect of never
afterwards having her provided for by somebody else—a quite
sufficient reason for their anger.
Nobody had any right to be angry with her. Her mother
would, of course, be sorry, but when a grown-up person tried to
live according to his conscience the parents had nothing to say.
She had tried to help her mother as much as possible, she had
never worried her with her own troubles, her reputation had
never been spoilt by any tales of levity, flirtation, or revelling,
but where her own opinions about right and wrong differed
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