She had loved that retreat
until it had become a living passion with her. The more John
Gilman neglected her, the more she concentrated upon her plans,
and when the hour came in which she realized what she had lost
and what Eileen had won, she reached the decision to sell her
home, go to the city, and study until she knew whether she really
could succeed at her chosen profession.
Then she would come back to the valley, buy the spot she coveted,
build the house of which she dreamed, and in it she would spend
the remainder of her life making homes for the women who knew how
to hold the love of men. When she reached the city she had
decided that if one could not have the best in life, one must be
content with the next best, and for her the next best would be
homes for other people, since she might not materialize the home
she had dreamed for John Gilman and herself. She had not wanted
to leave the valley. She had not wanted to lose John Gilman.
She had not wanted to part with the home she had been reared in.
Yet all of these things seemed to have been forced upon her. All
Marian knew to do was to square her shoulders, take a deep
breath, put regrets behind her, and move steadily toward the best
future she could devise for herself.
She carried letters of introduction to the San Francisco
architects, Nicholson and Snow, who had offered a prize for the
best house that could be built in a reasonable time for fifteen
thousand dollars.
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