society done for me? It's kicked me, it's bled me. It's made me work ten
hours a day for eight bob a week. It'd have sucked me dry and offered me
the workhouse, or the Thames at the end. It made me almost a cripple.'

Edward stared.

'Yes,' said Victoria savagely. 'That makes you squirm, sentimentalist.
Look at that!'

She put her foot on a chair, tucked up her skirt, tore down the
stocking. Purplish still, the veins stood out on the firm white flesh.

Edward clenched both his hands and looked away. A look of pain was in
his eyes.

'Yes, look at that,' raged Victoria. 'That's what your society's done
for me. It's chucked me into the water to teach me to swim, and it's
gloated over every choke. It's fine talking about chivalry, isn't it,
when you see what honest labour's done for me, isn't it? It's fine
talking about purity when you see the price your society pays me for
being what I am, isn't it? Look at me. Look at my lace, look at my
diamonds, look at my house . . . and think of the other side: eight bob
a week, ten hours work a day, a room with no fire, and a bed with no
sheets. But I know your society now, and as I can't kill it I'll cheat
it. I've served it and it's got two years of my life; but I'm going to
get enough out of it to make it crawl.'

She strode towards Edward.

'So don't you come preaching to me,' she hissed.

Edward's head bent down. Slowly he walked towards the door.

'Yes,' she said, 'go. I've no use for you. I'm out for stronger meat.'

He opened the door, then, without looking up,

'Good-bye,' he said.

The door closed behind him. Victoria looked about her for some seconds,
then sat down in the carving chair, her arms outstretched on the table.
Her teeth were clenched now, her jaw set; with indomitable purpose she
looked out into the darkening room where she saw the battle and victory
of life.

CHAPTER IV

VICTORIA had never loved adventure for its own sake. The change from
drudgery to leisure was grateful as was all it brought in the shape of
pretty clothes, jewels and savoury dishes; but she realised every day
better that, taking it as a profession, her career was no great success.
It afforded her a fair livelihood, but the wasting asset of her beauty
could not be replaced; thus it behoved her to amortize its value at a
rapid rate. She felt much better in health; her varicose veins had gone
down a good deal, but she still preserved a dark mystery about them;
after s