ect for authority to cover me!"

It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of
conduct. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but
herself in all her acts and plans. Even Capes had been for her merely an
excitant to passionate love--a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy
imaginative wallowings. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free,
untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either
for herself or others.

"I have hurt my father," she said; "I have hurt my aunt. I have hurt and
snubbed poor Teddy. I've made no one happy. I deserve pretty much what
I've got....

"If only because of the way one hurts others if one kicks loose and
free, one has to submit....

"Broken-in people! I suppose the world is just all egotistical children
and broken-in people.

"Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann
Veronica....

"Compromise--and kindness.

"Compromise and kindness.

"Who are YOU that the world should lie down at your feet?

"You've got to be a decent citizen, Ann Veronica. Take your half loaf
with the others. You mustn't go clawing after a man that doesn't belong
to you--that isn't even interested in you. That's one thing clear.

"You've got to take the decent reasonable way. You've got to adjust
yourself to the people God has set about you. Every one else does."

She thought more and more along that line. There was no reason why
she shouldn't be Capes' friend. He did like her, anyhow; he was always
pleased to be with her. There was no reason why she shouldn't be his
restrained and dignified friend. After all, that was life. Nothing was
given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that
it had to offer. Every one has to make a deal with the world.

It would be very good to be Capes' friend.

She might be able to go on with biology, possibly even work upon the
same questions that he dealt with....

Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson....

It grew clear to her that throughout all her wild raid for independence
she had done nothing for anybody, and many people had done things for
her. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the
table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought
of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy's admiration; she thought, with
a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning's conscientious
unselfishness, of Miss Miniver's d