Such fools we are, she thought, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drinking their downfall) do the same; can‘t be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. - P4
Oh if she could have had her life over again! she thought, stepping on to the pavement, could have looked even differently! - P11