“Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. Ogilvy was full of a client’s trouble in that matter, a grave and even tragic trouble. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. ‘You mean—’ ‘Hilary!’ Lucy turned excited eyes back to Alderley. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. He wasn't quite hard enough to win worldly success; that was his fault. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation.
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