The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. ‘I believe that. “Well, we won’t go into Shakespeare,” said Ogilvy “What interests me is that our young women nowadays are running about as free as air practically, with registry offices and all sorts of accommodation round the corner. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger.
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