" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. "To shoot you would be to lose the reward. She declined and finished with a few of her favorite excerpts from Scheherazade. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order.
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