’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. I’m going to that stupid party at the Vorsack’s to get to the bottom of it. ’ ‘But what a perfectly famous adventure. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. “Yes. She went to market every day to fetch the daily bread and more herbs for more medicines and potions, plus treats for the apprentices made of honey and almond paste. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions.
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