“I don’t want to look at any of them,” replied Bridget, flippantly. “I’ve looked at enough women in the two months I’ve been here to last me my natural life. I wish with all my heart an epidemic of men would break out!”
“Miss Ruan!” cried Miss Miles, deprecatingly, with a nervous smile.
“I know nothing of life either,” Bridget said absently. “We’ve been alike in that respect. But I’ve always wanted it—madly. You haven’t, it seems?”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean by life?”
“Oh!” Bridget answered with a deep breath, rising restlessly as she spoke. “I don’t know. People, experience, opportunities,—love, perhaps.”
The elder woman started and reddened. She glanced apprehensively at Bridget.
“There! you are shocked because I even mention the word love, and yet, is it a bad thing? Why shouldn’t I want it? I do want it!” she cried.
“There’s nothing like work for making one forget all that sort of thing,” Miss Miles began.
“But why should I forget it?” Bridget turned swiftly and faced her. “You don’t understand. I like my work; but it isn’t all my life. There’s room for more than that. If one had a life—a real life outside, with joys and sorrows of one’s own, one— Because I’m a teacher, am I to cease to be a woman?” she broke off passionately.
“You will not be likely to get what you want, as a teacher,” Miss Miles said slowly, “unless you know outsiders. Why don’t you join the Ethical Society?” she asked after a moment. “I think you want a motive—a purpose—in your life. You would get to know people too, and—”