And not only the future.

By a perfectly logical diversion her thoughts presently went racing to the past.

There was, so to speak, a suspension of the immediate crisis, while she listened to her own mind--while she watched her own years go by.
It was but rarely that Daphne let her mind run on her own origins.

But on this winter night, as she sat motionless by the fire, she became conscious of a sudden detachment from her most recent self and life--a sudden violent turning against both--which naturally threw her back on the past, on some reflection upon what she had made of herself, by way of guide to what she might still make of herself, if she struck boldly, now, while there was yet time, for her own freedom and development.
As to her parents, she never confessed, even to herself, that she owed them anything, except, of course, the mere crude wealth that her father had left her.

Otherwise she was vaguely ashamed of them both.