Jane came to stand beside her, looking at the small figures already modelled in plaster.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It is called 'Woman.' I am trying to express the progress of woman through the happy ages," laughed Bobs harshly.
In the little model the figures of the women leaned on each other, hand on shoulder, as they groped. Woman, the pack animal; woman, the slave; woman, the mother, dragged by many births; woman, old, bent, heavy with age.
"What do you think of it?" sneered Bobs.
"I think it is wonderfully done, and bitter, bitter, bitter."
"It's truth; of course it's bitter."
Jane turned and left her without another word. She felt that a terrible thing had happened to the girl's soul. She hated Jerry for his careless blundering.
"Will she come?" he asked, on her entrance.
"Yes."