It’s like this: You want freedom. “I’ve been through all that,” she went on, after a pause. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. He turned me so that he could have a companion in his loneliness. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. Try and consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you like best. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. ’ Gerald infused sympathy into his voice, and deliberately addressed himself to Madame.
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