She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. I’m behaving shockingly, I know. In any event, I explained that no one lived here and that we’d been called in because of suspected intruders. ‘What’s to do?’ ‘Valade is here. The child was still safe. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would.
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