‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities.
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