“Not really. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. It seemed to her in her restored geniality that she liked Manning extremely. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. "Come and sit down by me. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Take my word for it, your troubles are over. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment.
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