th City
beaus--all this had drawn a veil over her solitude. Now she was really
alone because none knew and none would know her. Her beauty, her fine
clothes, contributed to clear round her a circle as if she were a
leper. At times she would talk to a woman in a park, but before a few
sentences had passed her lips the woman would take in every detail of
her, her clean gloves, her neat shoes, her lace handkerchief, her costly
veil; then the woman's face would grow rigid, and with a curt 'good
morning' she would rise from her seat and go.

Victoria found herself thrust back, like the trapper in the hands of Red
Indians; like him she ran in a circle, clubbed back towards the centre
every time she tried to escape. She was of her class, and none but her
class would associate with her. Women such as herself gladly talked to
her, but their ideas sickened her, for life had taught them nothing but
the ethics of the sex-trade. Their followers too--barbers, billiard
markers, shady bookmakers, unemployed potmen; who sometimes dared to
foist themselves on her--filled her with yet greater fear and disgust,
for they were the only class of man alternative to those on whose bounty
she lived. Thus she withdrew herself away from all; sometimes a craving
for society would throw her into equivocal converse with Augusta, whose
one idea was the dowry she must take back to Germany. Then, tiring of
her, she would snatch up Snoo and Poo and pace round and round her tiny
lawn like a squirrel in its wheel.

A chance meeting with Molly emphasised her isolation, like the flash of
lightning which leaves the night darker. She was standing on the steps
of the Sandringham Tea House in Bond Street, looking into the side
window of the photographer who runs a print shop on the ground floor.
Some sprawling Boucher beauties in delicate gold frames fascinated her.
She delighted in the semi-crude, semi-sophisticated atmosphere, the
rotundity of the well-fed bodies, their ribald rosy flesh. As she was
wondering whether they would not do for the stairs the door opened
suddenly and a plump little woman almost rushed into her arms. The
little woman apologised, giving her a quick look. Then the two looked at
one another again.

'Victoria!' cried Molly, for it was she, with her wide open blue eyes,
small nose, fair frizzy hair.

A thrill of joy and fear ran through Victoria. She felt her personality
criddle up like a scorched moth, then expand like a flower under