ASTRAEA: You speak of your husband strangely, Lyra.
LYRA: My head is out of a sack. I managed my escape from him this morning
by renouncing bath and breakfast; and what a relief, to be in the railway
carriage alone! that is, when the engine snorted. And if I set eyes on
him within a week, he will hear some truths. His idea of marriage is, the
taking of the woman into custody. My hat is on, and on goes Pluriel's. My
foot on the stairs; I hear his boot behind me. In my boudoir I am alone
one minute, and then the door opens to the inevitable. I pay a visit, he
is passing the house as I leave it. He will not even affect surprise. I
belong to him, I am cat's mouse. And he will look doating on me in
public. And when I speak to anybody, he is that fearful picture of all
smirks. Fling off a kid glove after a round of calls; feel your
hand--there you have me now that I am out of him for my half a day, if
for as long.
ASTRAEA: This is one of the world's happy marriages!
LYRA: This is one of the world's choice dishes! And I have it planted
under my nostrils eternally.
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