"If a girl does not marry, she is treated as if she had no right to have a self at all! But, where parents are reasonable, I doubt if any home-life _need_ be narrow and stifling, and all the rest of it. Monotony is not necessarily an evil. There is immense monotony in all good work, at least in the qualifying one's self for it. I think what makes home-life so trying and unsatisfying to so many unmarried women is the want of the sense of responsibility, the not feeling that it really matters, except for themselves, whether they are idle and frivolous or not. It is that sense of responsibility which makes even a dull, commonplace, _married_ life attractive. The wife feels herself _somebody_, a centre." "Yes, I am sure it must be," said Winifred. "But how is it all to be set right? There are so many girls who can't marry nowadays, they say." "Well, they must bear it. Cheerful acceptance of evils, irremediable for _us_, though in the long run they may be set right again, is, after all, a _very_ big part of our life's work, is it not? And as to actual, practical work, `usefulness' in the noblest sense, I have great faith in its coming to those who take at once whatever comes in their way. It is like capital. Money makes money, we are told. Well, I believe that doing work brings work to do. But I did not mean to preach like this." "I am glad of it. I will think about it," said Winifred, gently. Then she turned away towards the house, walking slowly, however, for she felt weak and faint from the violent weeping so rare to her. And the sun had been beating on her head more than she realised. Like many English people, Winifred did not know the danger of the spring sun-- altogether she felt strangely unlike herself. And Hertha did not keep her in sight, for she herself moved towards the front in search of a shady spot, where she might read Mr Montague's letter undisturbed. CHAPTER TWELVE. AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. Miss Norreys found the sheltered corner she was in search of, and then she read her letter. It was a very long one, full of interest to her for reasons besides those affecting Winifred. And more than an hour had passed before, at last recalling herself to the present, she rose from her seat to return to the house. "How perfectly beautiful it is!" she thought. "This place is almost too sunshiny, so far as I have seen it. I should like to know it in winter, or in cloudy weather; I wonder if the `White cat's palace' feeling could still remain, or if it would seem more commonplace and homely."