It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. “You too were deceived. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. He made his speech a little elaborately. Fiercely defensive, as usual. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. She felt his erection against her naked thigh. I want to love him. You will not have to wait long for the information. Do you know that this becomes a habit?” “If you would only teach us all,” he murmured, “how to acquire it.
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