Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. Wood. 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. I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up. Remember that he’s not at all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he’s your salvation. ’ ‘I dare say you do,’ said the general, grim satisfaction overtaking his anger as his prophesy proved accurate.
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