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Alice jolted in the back of the truck. She was battered, mentally and physically, from her night's experience; more undramatically, from her life since marriage. Near to tears of fatigue, she was unable to tolerate the sight of Rosemary in her ridiculous finery; it seemed impossible that any man could be attracted by such a slut. It was not her get-up that was sluttish; it was not her body; it was her self. Yet she had a tautness of mind which could not be said of herself or Roland.
The truck stopped. ‘Get out!’ They scrambled out and Alice saw she was at Braughing House, which had belonged to some friends by whom they were occasionally bored. The fabric was intact, but their solid and handsome furniture had, like themselves, been taken away. The women were shoved into the hall. ‘Stand there! From now on you are under orders. You will obey instantly. And keep your bloody mouths shut!’ He left them and disappeared into an inner room: they could hear men's voices.
It was cold. It must have been half an hour, during which they stood and shivered, before he reappeared. He gave them both rough, blue cotton dressing gowns. ‘Take your clothes off and put these on. Come on … hurry!’ he said angrily as they hesitated, expecting him to withdraw. ‘But … started Alice. He slapped her hard across the mouth, making it bleed. ‘Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?’ He collected their clothes and walked off.
As they stood, starved, naked and trembling, despair came near to breaking the resistance of the two girls. ‘I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss.’ Alice noted with surprise that Rosemary was expressing real compassion. ‘I know them. You don't. They are all the same.’ ‘You know them, Rosemary? How? Have you seen these men before?’ ‘Oh no, Miss. Though’, she added with a meaning nod towards the door off
the main hall, ‘I've seen that fat rascal before. And lots more like him.’ She addressed the interloper directly. ‘Come on, Fatty, want a peep? Can't you get a cock stand with your gir