He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. All this was the work of a minute. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. I might have told you the truth. This was his humiliation as well as hers. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs.
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