“Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. ” He was slightly tipsy. Your life is like a funeral March. " Lady Trafford sighed deeply. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. The theme was a masquerade. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. He gave her silence in return. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. They have no ideas what to do with us.
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