Men usually do. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. I’M shaken. 1703. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course.
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