You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. I have slept with it under my pillow. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk.
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