‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. Here it is. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Sebastian physically restrained her as she hit and scratched at him, trying to touch her mother who went swiftly into her death throes.
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