They were terrible, horrible people. Well-born, welleducated; those are the lads that pay in full. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Wild," he added, laughing, "it must be a stronger prison than Willesden cage that can hold me. “Forgive me,” he said. He was suddenly calm. We close the chapter.
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