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He was dissatisfied with his company, which his schoolmaster had told him long ago meant that he should not inflict it on another. He had once promise... to treat Miss Slater as a gentlewoman. He had treated her worse than a street doxy. That he had pretended to care for her only made it worse. Well, the only recourse was to offer for her. That seemed a tepid recourse. By now, marriage to her looked quite attractive. Marriage to her rapist might not appeal to her as much. Well, he would offer to. I turned back from the window and saw that of course he wasn't looking at the scenes of London street life, he was firmly fixed on staring between the buttons on my blouse. I felt further exposed by this, I felt that he must know by now that I was feeling intoxicated by my building lust, at least that I was squirming uncomfortably. I focused on the window again, desperate for a pretense to leave, or any kind of disgusting distraction to deflate my dirty mood. The heavens opened at that point. More

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