He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. Her name was Rhea. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. “Wow, congratulations, Martin. ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way. He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance. After all, this could never be the black sheep.
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