“Your sex is a terrible fraud. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia.
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