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“You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. The man lingered. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her.
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