Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. He had been frozen in time at age forty-two. It is not for myself I fear. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. Anna’s face however was wholly impassive. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. —Gentlemen, your most obsequious trout. He has no imagination, no real generosity. You see to what it has brought you.
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