Her silence admitted it. “But still,” she said after a long pause, “there are other girls, younger than I am, in these things. They talk about—oh, all sorts of things. Freely....”
“You've been awfully good to me,” she said irrelevantly. “And of course this meeting was all pure accident.”
Father and daughter remained silent for awhile, seeking a better grip.
“What exactly do you want, Eleanor?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “Generally?” she asked.
“Your mother has the impression that you are discontented.”
“Discontented is a horrid word.”
“Well—unsatisfied.”
She remained still for a time. She felt the moment had come to make her demand.
“I would like to go to Newnham or Somerville—and work. I feel—so horribly ignorant. Of all sorts of things. If I were a son I should go—”