Now as Lady Harman listened to all this confused effective picturing of the great catering business which was the other side of her husband and which she had taken on trust so long, she had in her heart a quite unreasonable feeling of shame that she should listen at all, a shyness, as though she was prying, as though this really did not concern her. She knew she had to listen and still she felt beyond her proper jurisdiction. It is against instinct, it is with an enormous reluctance that women are bringing their quick emotions, their flashing unstable intelligences, their essential romanticism, their inevitable profound generosity into the world of politics and business. If only they could continue believing that all that side of life is grave and wise and admirably managed for them they would. It is not in a day or a generation that we shall un-specialize women. It is a wrench nearly as violent as birth for them to face out into the bleak realization that the man who goes out for them into business, into affairs, and returns so comfortably loaded with housings and wrappings and trappings and toys, isn’t, as a matter of fact, engaged in benign creativeness while he is getting these desirable things. §5 Lady Harman’s mind was so greatly exercised by Susan Burnet’s voluminous confidences that it was only when she returned to her own morning room that she recalled the pawning problem. She went back to Sir Isaac’s study and found Susan with all her measurements taken and on the very edge of departure. “Oh Susan!” she said. She found the matter a little difficult to broach. Susan remained in an attitude of respectful expectation. “I wanted to ask you,” said Lady Harman and then broke off to shut the door. Susan’s interest increased. “You know, Susan,” said Lady Harman with an air of talking about commonplace things, “Sir Isaac is very rich and—of course—very generous.... But sometimes one feels, one wants a little money of one’s own.” “I think I can understand that, my lady,” said Susan. “I knew you would,” said Lady Harman and then with a brightness that was slightly forced, “I can’t always get money of my own. It’s difficult—sometimes.” And then blushing vividly: “I’ve got lots of _things_.... Susan, have you ever pawned anything?” And so she broached it. “Not since I got fairly into work,” said Susan; “I wouldn’t have it. But when I was little we were always pawning things. Why! we’ve pawned kettles!...” She flashed three reminiscences. Meanwhile Lady Harman produced a little glittering object and held it between finger and thumb. “If I went into a pawnshop near here,” she said, “it would seem so odd.... This ring, Susan, must be worth thirty or forty pounds. And it seems so silly when I have it that I should really be wanting money....” Susan displayed a peculiar reluctance to handle the ring. “I’ve never,” she said, “pawned anything valuable—not valuable like that. Suppose—suppose they wanted to know how I had come by it.”