with a
crowbar(he
was
swaggering,he
was
insolent)in
the Mile
End
Road。Yet,she
said to
herself,from
the dawn
of time
odes have
been sung
to
love;wreaths
heaped and
roses;and
if you
asked nine
people out
of ten
they would
say they
wanted
nothing
but
this-love;while
the
women,judging
from her
own
experience,would
all the
time be
feeling,This
is not
what we
want;there
is nothing
more
tedious,puerile,and
inhumane
than
this;yet
it is also
beautiful
and
necessary。Well


