here are not even sinful people to be sorry for.... And
he says himself that Cambridge people are particular. He says they are
liberal but very, very particular, and perhaps I could not always act my
part well. Sometimes I am not always well behaved. When there is music I
behave badly sometimes, or when I am bored. He says the Cambridge people
are so liberal that they do not mind what you are, but he says they are
so particular that they mind dreadfully how you are what you are.... So
that it comes to exactly the same thing...."

"Anna Alexievna," said Benham suddenly, "are you in love with Prothero?"

Her manner became conscientiously scientific.

"He is very kind and very generous--too generous. He keeps sending for
more money--hundreds of roubles, I try to prevent him."

"Were you EVER in love?"

"Of course. But it's all gone long ago. It was like being hungry. Only
very fine hungry. Exquisite hungry.... And then being disgusted...."

"He is in love with you."

"What is love?" said Anna. "He is grateful. He is by nature grateful."
She smiled a smile, like the smile of a pale Madonna who looks down on
her bambino.

"And you love nothing?"

"I love Russia--and being alone, being completely alone. When I am dead
perhaps I shall be alone. Not even my own body will touch me then."

Then she added, "But I shall be sorry when he goes."

Afterwards Benham talked to Prothero alone. "Your Anna," he said, "is
rather wonderful. At first, I tell you now frankly I did not like her
very much, I thought she looked 'used,' she drank vodka at lunch, she
was gay, uneasily; she seemed a sham thing. All that was prejudice. She
thinks; she's generous, she's fine."

"She's tragic," said Prothero as though it was the same thing.

He spoke as though he noted an objection. His next remark confirmed this
impression. "That's why I can't take her back to Cambridge," he said.

"You see, Benham," he went on, "she's human. She's not really feminine.
I mean, she's--unsexed. She isn't fitted to be a wife or a mother any
more. We've talked about the possible life in England, very plainly.
I've explained what a household in Cambridge would mean.... It doesn't
attract her.... In a way she's been let out from womanhood, forced out
of womanhood, and I see now that when women are let out from womanhood
there's no putting them back. I could give a lecture on Anna. I see
now that if women are going to be wives and mothers and homekeepers and