She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. They unloaded Michelle’s sleeping parents who had been propped up in the back seat, necks craned against each other.
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