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Send us a new image. Is this product missing categories? Add more categories. Review This Product. Welcome to Loot. Alice, he sincerely felt, was part of his past. Part of his struggling, underfunded, undergraduate past.
While Miranda, with her pert little bum and skimpy clothes, was undoubtedly The Future. Certainly the disturbing and erotic dreams which awoke him nightly with The Phallus making a little tent of the continental quilt were deeply symbolic, meaning — he was sure — that it was time for a shift of perspective. Time for growth, time for rediscovery, time to change. He planned to explore with Alice, in a free and open adult discussion, exactly where their relationship was failing, and what were his underlying needs.
Indeed, he had mentally reserved their next counselling session for just such a revelation. He planned casually to steer the session towards a discussion about growth and change and then lure Alice into expressing a readiness to try a new form of marriage — a more open relationship. Then he planned to confront her with her just-stated wish to leave him; and nobly offer her a divorce. By the time Alice had sorted out what he was doing and what were his intentions Professor Hartley reckoned to have packed her things and changed the locks.
Not that he ever acknowledged — even in his quietest moments — the simple truth that he was deserting Alice. Professor Hartley was educated and nourished in a world which, on the whole, took the male viewpoint as the norm and the female view when it is offered which, God knows, is rare enough as aberrant. His boredom with Alice and his lust for Miranda he perceived fondly, as the Spirit of the Age, and therefore inevitable.
He told himself that Alice too was ready for change. She was ready to go away, he fondly reassured himself. Professor Charles Hartley nodded judiciously. At the deep emotional levels where, as a Professor of Psychology, he alone was expert, he knew that Alice had already abandoned him. What he was doing was characteristic male behaviour: hunting down the truth about their lives. He was exhibiting the male courage which makes men leaders, explorers, kings.
He was the heir to huntsmen, cavemen, and particularly entrepreneurial monkeys. He had the courage to confront this issue instead of concealing it — as Alice wished to conceal it — behind the now empty rituals of living together. Alice used the typical, cowardly, female tactic of behaving as if their relationship was thriving, behaving as if she still cared for him, devoting her life to him as usual. Professor Hartley recognized her day-to-day care of him, her support of his work, and her unfailing, indeed excessive readiness to make love as the despicable ploy it was. It was her failure of vision.
It would be healthy for them both to break this routine and bourgeois life. Charles thanked God a Being remarkably resembling Charles Hartley in appearance, logic, and priorities that he was not a promiscuous man. Charles knew from his studies in sociology and anthropology that he was a serial monogamist. Charles thought that men who had sexual relations with many women lacked control and self-discipline.
Alice Hartley's Happiness book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. When Professor Charles Pringle does not react to his wif.. . Social mores come under bestselling author Philippa Gregory's acute scrutiny in this reissue of a long-unavailable novel of betrayal, revenge and liberatio.
He knew that the natural way, the proper way, especially for a natural leader of other men, is one woman at a time — the duration of that time depending of course on the desirability of the woman and the availability of alternatives. This, Charles knew, is not promiscuity. It is not even sexual liberalism. He smiled at the thought, and Alice, mistaking his expression for arousal, came a little closer and danced within reach of his slack fingers. She took three steps to the right and pointed one large white foot, she took three steps to the left and widened her dark kohl-rimmed eyes, she came even closer and, provocatively, winsomely, trailed one of her gauze scarves across his face.
The little beaten coins of gold at the fringe tapped unpleasantly on his cheek and then one struck him, painfully, in the right eye.
Alice shuddered to a sudden halt, open-mouthed. Charles looked at her. She was a dark-haired, large-eyed, full-bodied woman, exotic in her ethnic prints and gipsy shawls. Her cheeks were rosy with exercise and her kohl-rimmed eyes were wide with astonishment.