‘Do you think I do not know? If this pig has not done so, there would be no need for me to do it. It’s these damned novels. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. ‘Me, I have a name. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. It was a second reminder that against her claim to go free and untrammelled there was a case to be made, that after all it was true that a girl does not go alone in the world unchallenged, nor ever has gone freely alone in the world, that evil walks abroad and dangers, and petty insults more irritating than dangers, lurk. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served.
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