“You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. You have misunderstood. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. I haven’t, anyhow. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. I warned her not to say a word, for it would mean the death of everyone in the Palazzo, including you. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing.
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