“Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. Not all of us, but some of us. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Look somewhere else in life. ‘I do not see at all. "I beg pardon," he said. Jolly nice girl, too. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish.
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