While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. 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. It was enough. I’ll give you an uncrossed check, and then you can get it at the bank here, quite close by. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared.
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