In truth, she liked Gerald also. I'm going through his pockets. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. “I did it for love of you,” he said. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. They litter up the room. It was locked.
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