She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Ah Cum had no business taking him into the city last night. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. We’re handfuls. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams.
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