“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. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory. You MUST not, you SHALL not go. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison.
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