“You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. ’ ‘But, Marthe, you do not imagine that I would have taken the veil like you, even if you have not told me. The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs. Once upon a time she and Roddy had descended thence by the drain-pipe. 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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