” She shook her head. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. G. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically.
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