It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. " Mr. Look at the poor victim at your feet. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. By this action, Lucy already knew what the answer was. .
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