She heaved relief. No one had noticed it. It was all right. No one else had heard the terrible mistake. It was all right. But it was very wrong. Above all other places this was the place that should have been changed. Woman... that is full of misery. How could it ever be Man? Anna, in almost her last words, had said it. “It is hard for women” and that God knew it was hard for them--“O God, thou knowest how hard it is for women.” In the next week she went away to school. PART TWO--HOUSE OF WOMEN CHAPTER I What anybody can have nobody wants; but what only one person can have there’s a queue to get. This is an elementary principle of the frailty of human nature, and knowledge of it, and experience of its mighty truth, used to cause, during the three holiday periods of the year, a standing advertisement to appear on the front page of the Morning Post. “High-class Ladies’ School for the Daughters of Gentlemen of the Professions has UNEXPECTED VACANCY for ONE ONLY pupil at reduced terms--Mrs. Impact, Oakwood House School, St. John’s Wood, London.” ONE ONLY pupil! That was the magic touch. The very first words addressed to Rosalie by a fellow boarder at Oakwood House were from a short, sharp-featured girl of her own age, which then was twelve, who said to her sharply, “You’re a One Only. I can see you are. Aren’t you a One Only?” “Well, I’m by myself,” said Rosalie, not understanding but most anxious to say the right thing. “Stupid, you’re not,” said the sharp girl, “because I’m with you. Did your mother see the advertisement in the Morning Post? The advertisement of this school?” It happened that Rosalie knew her mother had seen it for Aunt Belle had shown it to her and to them all. “One of the very best schools,” Aunt Belle had said. “You see, it’s only quite by chance there was a vacancy.” “Yes, she did,” said Rosalie. “She’s the cat’s grandmother,” said the sharp girl. “Never say ‘she’ for a person’s name. Well, if your mother saw the advertisement then you are a One Only at reduced terms, and I knew you were directly I saw you. Now, tell me. Don’t blink--unless of course you’re an idiot; all idiots blink. Tell me. Was that dress made for you or was it cut down?” “It was my cousin Laetitia’s,” said Rosalie. “Of course it was,” returned the sharp girl very triumphantly. “Every One Only’s clothes are cut down for her. Poopers! Do you know what a pooper is? A pooper is half a poop and half a pauper. Every One Only’s a pooper. Well, now you know what you are. You see that girl over there. Do you know what she is?” Rosalie said she did not. “She’s a Red Indian.” “Is she?” said Rosalie, much surprised, for the girl did not look in the least like a Red Indian. “Ask her,” said the sharp girl. “Do you know what I am?” Rosalie shook her head. “Answer,” said the sharp girl. “No, I don’t,” said Rosalie. “I’m a Sultan,” said the sharp girl. “All the nice girls are Sultans and the school belongs to them. Do I look nice?”