Produced by Pat Castevans and David Widger
By WINSTON CHURCHILL
At certain moments during the days that followed the degree of tensionher relationship with Ditmar had achieved tested the limits of Janet'singenuity and powers of resistance. Yet the sense of mastery at beingable to hold such a man in leash was by no means unpleasurable to a youngwoman of her vitality and spirit. There was always the excitement thatthe leash might break—and then what? Here was a situation, she knewinstinctively, that could not last, one fraught with all sorts ofpossibilities, intoxicating or abhorrent to contemplate; and for thatvery reason fascinating. When she was away from Ditmar and tried to thinkabout it she fell into an abject perplexity, so full was it of anomaliesand contradictions, of conflicting impulses; so far beyond her knowledgeand experience. For Janet had been born in an age which is rapidlydiscarding blanket morality and taboos, which has as yet to achieve themorality of scientific knowledge, of the individual instance. Tradition,convention, the awful examples portrayed for gain in the movies, even hermother's pessimistic attitude in regard to the freedom with which thesexes mingle to-day were powerless to influence her. The thought,however, that she might fundamentally resemble her sister Lise, despite afancied superiority, did occasionally shake her and bring about arevulsion against Ditmar. Janet's problem was in truth, though she failedso to specialize it, the supreme problem of our time: what is the path toself-realization? how achieve emancipation from the commonplace?
Was she in love with Ditmar? The question was distasteful, she avoidedit, for enough of the tatters of orthodox Christianity clung to her tocause her to feel shame when she contemplated the feelings he aroused inher. It was when she asked herself what his intentions were that herresentment burned, pride and a sense of her own value convinced her thathe had deeply insulted her in not offering marriage. Plainly, he did notintend to offer marriage; on the other hand, if he had done so, aprofound, self-respecting and moral instinct in her would, in her presentmood, have led her to refuse. She felt a fine scorn for the woman who,under the circumstances, would insist upon a bond and all a man's worldlygoods in return for that which it was her privilege to give freely; whilethe notion of servility, of economic dependence—though she did not sophrase it—repelled her far more than the possibility of social ruin.
This she did not contemplate at all; her impulse to leave Hampton and
Ditmar had nothing to do with that….
Away from Ditmar, this war of inclinations possessed her waking mind,invaded her dreams. When she likened herself to the other exploitedbeings he drove to run his mills and fill his orders,—of whom Mr.Siddons had spoken—her resolution to leave Hampton gained such definiteascendancy that her departure seemed only a matter of hours.
In this perspective Ditmar appeared so ruthless, his purpose to use herand fling her away so palpable, that she despised herself for havinghesitated. A longing for retaliation consumed her; she wished to hurt himbefore she left. At such times, however, unforeseen events invariablyintruded to complicate her feelings and alter her plans. One evening atsupper, for instance, when she seemed at last to have achieved thecomparative peace of mind that follows a decision after struggle, shegradually became aware of an outburst from Hannah concerning the stove,the condition of which for many mon