Chunk was to support her. Her father
used to support her. Her job then was being nice. That was her
job now. And she was nice. And she was still supported. Perfectly
logical.
For two years, neither really daughter now nor really wife, not
being obliged any longer even to make suggestions to her mother
about what to have for dinner, not being obliged any longer even
to think out the parties for Chunk's business friends, she did
nothing but become more and more firmly fixed in her inertia, in
her incapacity for hardship, in her horror of pain.
When Chunk came back from Junction City and was really convinced
that she didn't want children he was not merely astonished. He
thought the world had capsized.
In a way he was right. The world is turning round and over and
back to that one previous historical era when the aversion to
childbearing was widespread.
Once, just once, before our time, there was a modern world. Once,
just once, though not on the scale we know it, there was, before
us, a diffusion of leisure.
The causes were similar.
The Romans conquered the world by military force, just as we have
conquered it by mechanical invention.
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