And never before had she seemed to him so supple and so strong.
"Ah," she continued in a jesting way, "there is nothing like rationals, you know! To think that some women are foolish and obstinate enough to wear skirts when they go out cycling!" Then, as he declared--just by way of speaking the truth, and without the faintest idea of gallantry--that she looked very nice indeed in her costume, she responded: "Oh! I don't count.

I'm not a beauty.

I simply enjoy good health....

But can you understand it?
To think that women have an unique opportunity of putting themselves at their ease, and releasing their limbs from prison, and yet they won't do so! If they think that they look the prettier in short skirts like schoolgirls they are vastly mistaken! And as for any question of modesty, well, it seems to me that it is infinitely less objectionable for women to wear rationals than to bare their bosoms at balls and theatres and dinners as society ladies do." Then, with a gesture of girlish impulsiveness, she added: "Besides, does one think of such things when one's rolling along?
...

Yes, rationals are the only things, skirts are rank heresy!" In her turn, she was now looking at him, and was struck by the extraordinary change which had come over him since the day when he had first appeared to her, so sombre in his long cassock, with his face emaciated, livid, almost distorted by anguish.