oat, the hasty swallowing and the blinking
eyes--"since we left Cailsham, I'd sometimes hoped--"

"Of course you had, mater," said the young man sympathetically.

"But I'm going to relieve you of all responsibility," said Sally.
"I'm no longer going to be an expense to you, and I'm going to do
it with my own money--the money I was given and the money I make.
I can't see what right you have to think me selfish--all of you--as
I know you do. I'm no more selfish than you who expect me to spend
the money on you; in fact, I'm less selfish. It's my money."

This, in a word, is the spirit, the attitude of mind that is entering
into the mental composition of women. They are becoming conscious
of their personality. That phrase may be cryptic; without
consideration it may convey but little; yet it sums up the whole
movement, is the very moon itself to the turning tide. The woman who
once becomes conscious of her own personality is in a fair way towards
her own enfranchisement. Away go the fettering conventions of home
life, the chains of social hypocrisy are flung aside. She rides out
into the open air like the bird from the shattered cage, and if man,
the marksman, does not bring her to earth before her fluttering wings
are fully spread, then she is off--up into the deep, blue zenith of
liberty!

"I'm no more selfish than you who expect me to spend the money on
you; in fact, I'm less selfish. It's my money."

In that definite assertion, Sally first expressed the realization
of her own personality. The girl of twenty years ago would have
sacrificed her little dowry upon the family altar without a word;
she would, without complaint, have allowed it to be spent upon her
brother's education. But now we are dealing with modernity, and out
of the quiet country lanes, from the sacred hearth of the peaceful
home-circles, this army of women are rising. Who has taught them?
No one knows. Who has inspired them with the vitality of action? No
one can say. The spirit of the hive is at work within them; already
they are swarming in obedience to the silent command. Pick out a
hundred girls as they go to work in the city, and ask them why they
are toiling from one day to another. They will all--or ninety-nine
of them--give you the same answer--

"I didn't want to stay at home. I prefer to be independent."

There lies the heart of it, the realization of the ego in the
personality.

Sally had her own way. In the face of abuse, in the fa