The tension presses as hard as he presses against her. The couple watches them, curious, suspicious. Neither he nor her look as if they should be entangled in an alley with her pin cap and laced shawl pinned prim up over any dalliance of flesh. Her wool coat still soaked, mingling with the wet stench of his.
"Unhand me." She pushes him away. Taking the chance while God gives her the opportunity. He helps those that help themselves 0 another hypocritical epitaph that matches with what she needs then and now.
What would have been the difference? The devil she has now or the devil that spits pornography, sordid tales of sex and demons. "You belong in an asylum." She is just as rancorous as he. Angry for the way he handled her, frightened her, made her feel the sting of her station in a way that he has no right to.
She had thought him charming once. Handsome. Dignified. Now she realizes that her God saved her from the life she had daydreamed of.
Maybe.
She starts to follow the couple out of the arched alleyway and then speeds past them and back into the very public streets.