Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. ‘I allow anyone in. She rode him gently. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. Babies and females have got to keep hold of somebody or go under—anyhow, for the next few generations. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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