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A woman could take a man without really giving herself away. She told him at length she was leaving on the seventeenth.
Certainly she could take him without giving herself into his power. Sharp soft waves of unspeakable pleasure washed over her as he entered her, and started the curious molten thrilling that spread and spread till she was carried away with the last, blind flush of extremity.
As for the mother, a nervous invalid in the last few months of her life, she wanted her girls to be 'free', and to 'fulfil themselves'. 'Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in kindred love,' he said.
She herself had never been able to be altogether herself: it had been denied her.
Heaven knows why, for she was a woman who had her own income and her own way. But as a matter of fact, it was some old impression of authority on her own mind or soul that she could not get rid of.
It had nothing to do with Sir Malcolm, who left his nervously hostile, high-spirited wife to rule her own roost, while he went his own way.
Yet still in his face one saw the watchful look, the slight vacancy of a cripple. After a while, he reached for his shirt and put it on, dressed himself swiftly in silence, looked at her once as she still lay naked and faintly golden like a Gloire de Dijon rose on the bed, and was gone. Then we could start at teatime, and sleep perhaps in Grantham. And they tramped off to the forests with sturdy youths bearing guitars, twang-twang! Out in the open world, out in the forests of the morning, with lusty and splendid-throated young fellows, free to do as they liked, and--above all--to say what they liked. He knew he ought to find some way of using it, or converting it, so that he needn't sell it, or needn't have the chagrin of failing to sell it. They sang the Wandervogel songs, and they were free. It was the talk that mattered supremely: the impassioned interchange of talk. Both Hilda and Constance had had their tentative love-affairs by the time they were eighteen. But if he made electric power, could he sell that or use it? One was less in love with the boy afterwards, and a little inclined to hate him, as if he had trespassed on one's privacy and inner freedom. And every night now he played pontoon, that game of the Tommies, with Mrs Bolton, gambling with sixpences. ' 'I'm as sure as I can be of anything, that I shall come back.' 'Yes! For, of course, being a girl, one's whole dignity and meaning in life consisted in the achievement of an absolute, a perfect, a pure and noble freedom. To shake off the old and sordid connexions and subjections. A woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant connexion. And again, in the gambling he was gone in a kind of unconsciousness, or blank intoxication, or intoxication of blankness, whatever it was. But when she had gone to bed, he and Mrs Bolton would gamble on till two and three in the morning, safely, and with strange lust. ' Connie expostulated roundly, and was angry with both of them. the twentieth of July.' Strangely and blankly he looked at her, with the vagueness of a child, but with the queer blank cunning of an old man.
The amazing, the profound, the unbelievable thrill there was in passionately talking to some really clever young man by the hour, resuming day after day for months..they had never realized till it happened!