By god, DH Lawrence was right when he said there must be a dumb, dark, dull, bitter belly-tension between a man and a woman, and how else could this be achieved save in the long monotony of marriage?

Like all really strong-minded women, on whom everybody flops, she adored being bossed about. It was so restful.

Surely she had endured enough for one evening without having to listen to intelligent conversation?

Flora sighed. It was curious that persons who lived what the novelists called a rich emotional life always seemed to be a bit slow on the uptake.

And when April like an over-lustful lover leaped upon the lush flanks of the Downs there would be yet another child in the wretched hut down on Nettle Flitch Field, where Meriam housed the fruits of her shame.

I do not object to the phenomena, but I do object to the parrot.

I saw something nasty in the woodshed.