"I'm pouring into these letters, Stephen, the concentrated venom of years of brooding. My heart is black with rebellion against my lot and against the lot of woman. I have been given life and a fine position in the world, I made one fatal blunder in marrying to make these things secure, and now I can do nothing with it all and I have nothing to do with it. It astounds me to think of the size of our establishments, Stephen, of the extravagant way in which whole counties and great countries pay tribute to pile up the gigantic heap of wealth upon which we two lead our lives of futile entanglement. In this place alone there are fourteen gardeners and garden helps, and this is not one of our garden places. Three weeks ago I spent a thousand pounds on clothes in one great week of shopping, and our yearly expenditure upon personal effect, upon our magnificence and our margins cannot be greatly less than forty-five thousand pounds. I walk about our house and gardens, I take one of the carriages or one of the automobiles and go to some large pointless gathering of hundreds and thousands and thousands of pounds, and we walk about and say empty little things, and the servants don't laugh at us, the butlers don't laugh at us, the people in the street tolerate us.... It has an effect of collective insanity.... You know the story of one of those dear Barons of the Cinque Ports--a decent plumber-body from Rye or Winchelsea--one of the six--or eight--who claimed the privilege of carrying the canopy over the King"--she is speaking of King Edward's coronation of course--"how that he was discovered suddenly to be speaking quite audibly to the sacred presence so near to him: 'It is very remarkable--we should be here, your majesty--very remarkable.' And then he subsided--happily unheard--into hopeless embarrassment. That is exactly how I feel, Stephen. I feel I can't stand it much longer, that presently I shall splutter and spoil the procession.... "Perhaps I don't properly estimate our position in the fabric, but I can't get away from the feeling that everything in social life leads up to this--to us,--the ridiculous canopy. If so, then the universe means--_nothing_; it's blowing great forms and shapes as a swamp blows bubbles; a little while ago it was megatheriums and plesiosauriums--if that's the name for them--and now it is country-houses and motor-cars and coronation festivals. And in the end--it is all nonsense, Stephen. It is utter nonsense.