She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. His smile faded. A wrathful God was watching him. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. He initiated sex with her, lightly fingering her clitoris as an invitation. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. . I secured the dog after he had wounded me. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature.
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