It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. She is no longer mine; she is yours. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Part 7 Then one day a little thing happened that clothed itself in significance.
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