When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. She 191 picked up the remote, usurping it of its dividing status between their bodies. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. “No doubt about that,” Meddoes continued. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. “I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within. Lucy? Come 177 on out. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled.
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