At the bottom of her heart however she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be what wind would bring it her towards what shore it would drive her if it would be a shallop or a three-decker laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning as she awoke she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound sprang up with a start wondered that it did not come; then at sunset always more saddened she longed for the morrow.