His lips were tight drawn. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. Doctor Ralph came in to tea and put his arm round Alice and kissed her, and Alice called him “Squiggles,” and stood in the shelter of his arms for a moment with an expression of satisfied proprietorship. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers.
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