[He gives her a rapid glance, and then setting his teeth looks away.]
Taylor.
I couldn’t expect you to stay on here, not when you got a chance of going back to the Old Country. This life is all new to you. And you know that one.
Norah.
Oh, yes, I know it—I should think I did. [As she pictures to herself the daily round which awaits her, she is filled with a sort of mirthless scorn, and this presently, as she speaks, is mixed with hatred and dismay.] At eight o’clock every morning a maid will bring me tea and hot water. And I shall get up, and I shall have breakfast, and I shall interview the cook. I shall order luncheon and dinner. And I shall brush the coats of Mrs. Hubbard’s poms and take them for a walk on the common. All the paths on the common are asphalted so that elderly gentlemen and lady’s companions shouldn’t get their feet wet.
Taylor.
Gee!
Norah.
And then I shall come in and lunch, and after luncheon I shall go for a drive, one day in this direction and one day in that. And then I shall have tea, and then I shall go out again on the nice neat asphalt paths to give the dogs another walk. And then I shall change my dress and come down to dinner. And after dinner I shall play bezique with my employer, and I must take care not to beat her because she doesn’t like being beaten. And at ten o’clock I shall go to bed.... [She pauses a moment.] At eight o’clock next morning a maid will bring in my tea and hot water, and the day will begin again. Every day will be just like every other. And there are hundreds of women in England, strong and capable, with blood in their veins, who would be eager to get the place that’s offered to me. Almost a lady and thirty-five pounds a year.
[Taylor has been gazing at her steadily. What she means begins to dawn on him, but he restrains himself. He will not look at her now.]