You
DON'T love me, you know. You don't want to serve me. You only want
yourself.'
A shiver of rage went over his veins, at this repeated: 'You don't want
to serve me.' All the paradisal disappeared from him.
'No,' he said, irritated, 'I don't want to serve you, because there is
nothing there to serve. What you want me to serve, is nothing, mere
nothing. It isn't even you, it is your mere female quality. And I
wouldn't give a straw for your female ego--it's a rag doll.'
'Ha!' she laughed in mockery. 'That's all you think of me, is it? And
then you have the impudence to say you love me.'
She rose in anger, to go home.
You want the paradisal unknowing,' she said, turning round on him as he
still sat half-visible in the shadow. 'I know what that means, thank
you. You want me to be your thing, never to criticise you or to have
anything to say for myself. You want me to be a mere THING for you! No
thank you! IF you want that, there are plenty of women who will give it
to you. There are plenty of women who will lie down for you to walk
over them--GO to them then, if that's what you want--go to them.
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