She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. Burn your palette and your easel. Get it off your soul. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life. She dumped him because she claimed she didn’t want him to go any farther. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. ‘Well, nothing,’ uttered her betrothed crossly, before Gerald could answer. ‘Get the swords!’ ‘I’ll see to him. They got in my mouth. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me.
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