I just got in
one good bang on the mouth of one of them. All the rest was dreadful.
I was rushed through the streets to the police station. They kicked
me with their knees; they twisted my arms; they taunted and insulted
me; they called me vile names; and I told them what I thought of them,
and provoked them to do their worst. Theres one good thing about
being hard hurt: it makes you sleep. I slept in that filthy cell
with all the other drunks sounder than I should have slept at home. I
cant describe how I felt next morning: it was hideous; but the police
were quite jolly; and everybody said it was a bit of English fun, and
talked about last year's boat-race night when it had been a great deal
worse. I was black and blue and sick and wretched. But the strange
thing was that I wasnt sorry; and I'm not sorry. And I dont feel that
I did anything wrong, really. [She rises and stretches her arms with
a large liberating breath] Now that it's all over I'm rather proud
of it; though I know now that I'm not a lady; but whether thats
because we're only shopkeepers, or because nobody's really a lady
except when theyre treated like ladies, I dont know. [She throws
herself into a corner of the sofa].
MRS KNOX. [lost in wonder] But how could you bring yourself to do
it, Margaret? I'm not blaming you: I only want to know. How could
you bring yourself to do it?
MARGARET. I cant tell you. I dont understand it myself.
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