But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. 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. Love anywhere. "What is a sing-song girl?" she asked. But what would her aunt think of Teddy’s recent off-hand suggestion of marriage? What would she think of the Widgett conversation? Suppose she was to tell her aunt quietly but firmly about the parasitic males of degraded crustacea. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. She felt the need to get dressed, sensing that his parents would be home soon. She was nestled under his bedspread. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant.
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