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
