She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. But the people among whom she was now thrown through the social exertions of Miss Miniver and the Widgetts—for Teddy and Hetty came up from Morningside Park and took her to an eighteen-penny dinner in Soho and introduced her to some art students, who were also Socialists, and so opened the way to an evening of meandering talk in a studio—carried with them like an atmosphere this implication, not only that the world was in some stupid and even obvious way WRONG, with which indeed she was quite prepared to agree, but that it needed only a few pioneers to behave as such and be thoroughly and indiscriminately “advanced,” for the new order to achieve itself. She did not resist him, she could not. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there. She sighed with relief.
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