'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.