He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. They began to wrestle fiercely. She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. I’m going to that stupid party at the Vorsack’s to get to the bottom of it.
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