In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. She addressed Capes as though she spoke to him alone. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations.
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