‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. We find out no man will treat a woman fairly as man to man—no man. I want to give myself to you. Now go.
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