“Don’t!” she begged. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. ‘I borrow the expression from Melusine. Its importance had vanished with her abandonment of compromise. ’ Then I kicked him until he was black and blue. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. The day is already half over.
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