Utterly aloof, herself, from all emotions of panic or terror, it
had, from the very earliest age, interested her to see those passions at
work in others. Cruelty for cruelty's sake had no interest for her at
all; to pull the wings from flies, to tie kettles to the tails of
agitated puppies, to throw stones at cats, did not, in the least, amuse
her. She had once put a cat in the fire, but only because she had seen
it play with a terrified mouse. That had affronted her sense of justice.
But she was gravely and quite dispassionately interested in the terror
of Mary Kitson. In later life a bull fight was to appear to her a
tiresome affair, but the domination of one human being over another,
absorbing. She had, too, at the very earliest age, that conviction that
it was pleasant to combat all sentiment, all appeals to be "good," all
soft emotions of pity, anything that could suggest that Right was of
more power than Might.
It was as though she said, "You may think that even now you will get me.
I tell you I'm a rebel from the beginning; you'll never catch me showing
affection or sympathy.
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