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Chapter 27

           Whatcanbedoneagainsther?Nothing!ButIunderstandwhythecriticswouldliketo‘quash’her—ifIwereacritic,fondofwhiskey-and-soda,andmusic-hallwomen,Ishouldliketoquashhermyselfforbeingsodifferenttotherestofhersex!"

           "Whatanincomprehensiblewomanyouare,Sibyl!"Iexclaimedwithrealirritation—"YouadmireMissClare’sbooks—youhavealwaysadmiredthem—youhaveaskedhertobecomeyourfriend—andalmostinthesamebreathyouaveryouwouldliketo‘quash’herortomakehermiserable!IconfessIcannotunderstandyou!"

           "Ofcourseyoucannot!"sherespondedtranquilly,hereyesrestinguponmewithacuriousexpression,aswepausedforaninstantunderthedeepshadeofachestnuttreebeforeenteringourowngrounds—"Ineversupposedyoucould,andunliketheordinaryfemmeincomprise,Ihaveneverblamedyouforyourwantofcomprehension.Ithastakenmesometimetounderstandmyself,andevennowIamnotquitesurethatIhavegaugedthedepthsorshallownessesofmyownnaturecorrectly.

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