Sylvia's mother had let herself get stout--which seemed a
dangerous mark of confidence in the male animal. But the major was
fifteen years older than his wife, and she had a weak heart with
which to intimidate him. Now and then the wilfulness of Castleman
Lysle would become unendurable in the house, and his father would
seize him and turn him over his knee. His screams would bring "Miss
Margaret" flying to the rescue: "Major Castleman, how dare you spank
one of _my_ children?" And she would seize the boy and march off in
terrible haughtiness, and lock herself and her child in her room,
and for hours afterwards the poor major would wander about the
house, suffering the lonelines of the guilty soul. You would hear
him tapping gently at his lady's door. "Honey! Honey! Are you mad
with me?" "Major Castleman," the stately answer would come, "will
you oblige me by leaving one room in this house to which I may
retire?"
21. I would give you a wrong idea of Sylvia if I did not make clear
that along with this sophistication as to the play-aspects of sex,
there went the most incredible ignorance as to its practical
realities. In my arguments I had thought to appeal to her by
referring to that feature of wage-slavery which more than even
child-labour stirs the moral sense of women, but to my utter
consternation I discovered that here was a woman nearly a year
married who did not know what prostitution was.
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