| 241 | 242 | 243 | 244 | 245 |
| 1 | 74 | 149 | 223 | 297 |
|
She shook her head. "No," she said, "I have thought as well. What you
say--doesn't convince me."
She looked at his face resolutely. "I hate it," she said, and caught at
her breath. "You do not understand, you do not think. There was a time
when you said things and I believed them. I am growing wiser. You are a
man, you can fight, force your way. You do not mind bruises. You can be
coarse and ugly, and still a man. Yes--it makes you. It makes you. You
are right. Only a woman is not like that. We are different. We have let
ourselves get civilised too soon. This underworld is not for us."
She paused and began again.
"I hate it! I hate this horrible canvas! I hate it more than--more than
the worst that can happen. It hurts my fingers to touch it. It is
horrible to the skin. And the women I work with day after day! I lie
awake at nights and think how I may be growing like them...."
She stopped. "I am growing like them," she cried passionately.
Denton stared at her distress. "But--" he said and stopped.
"
You don't understand. What have I? What have I to save me? You can
fight. Fighting is man's work. But women--women are different.... I have
thought it all out, I have done nothing but think night and day. Look at
the colour of my face! I cannot go on. I cannot endure this life.... I
243
Page
Quick Jump
|