The malignity of men enraged her. The selfishness and grossness sickened her. Boys were different; but men, with their conceit and lies, were beasts. They should never make a fool of her. Never. Never. Then she wondered if her mother had been compelled to marry. On no other basis could her father be explained. Men were all alike.
Bert Harding, greasy, dark-eyed, like a dirty foreigner. He was nice-looking, after a fashion, yes, but even more conceited than most men. And Edie had got to marry him.
Alfie was on the doorstep when she reached home.
"You?" she said.
"Come over for the night. Got some business in Islington to-morrow morning."
"Alfie, you know Bert Harding?"
"Yes."
"You've got to make him marry Edie."
"I'll smash his face in if he don't."
"They'll be at the Canterbury to-morrow night."