Effort appeared not only futile, but fantastic, and yet effort, she knew, must be made if she were to ward off destitution.

She must recover her cheerfulness, she must be strong, she must be confident.

Alone, penniless, with two children to support, she could not afford to waste her time and her energy in useless regret.
Whatever it cost her, she must keep alive her fighting courage and her belief in life.

She had youth, health, strength, intelligence, resourcefulness on her side; and she told herself again that there were thousands of women living and fighting around her who were far worse off than she.

"What others have done, I can do also, and do better," she murmured aloud as she walked rapidly back to Dinard's.
In the long front room the crowded mid-winter sale was in progress, and the six arrogant young women, goaded into a fleeting semblance of activity, were displaying dilapidated "left over" millinery to a throng of unfashionable casual customers.