An enormous disgust at the prospect of the imminent encounter between Stuart and his mistress made me behave in a violent and irrational way. I wanted to escape seeing that, seeing even Stuart's first gesture in that, at any cost.
"I'm off," said I, and turned my back on him without any further farewell.
My line of retreat lay by the old lady, and so I advanced towards her.
I saw her expression change, her mouth fell a little way open, her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes grew round. She found me a queer customer even at the first sight, and there was something in the manner of my advance that took away her breath.
She stood at the top of the three or four steps that descended to the level of the hothouse floor. She receded a pace or two, with a certain offended dignity at the determination of my rush.
I gave her no sort of salutation.
Well, as a matter of fact, I did give her a sort of salutation. There is no occasion for me to begin apologising now for the thing I said to her--I strip these things before you--if only I can get them stark enough you will understand and forgive. I was filled with a brutal and overpowering desire to insult her.
And so I addressed this poor little expensive old woman in the following terms, converting her by a violent metonymy into a comprehensive
