As I watched Jamila I thought what a terrific person she'd become. She was low today, and she was often scornful of me anyway, the supercilious bitch, but I couldn't help seeing that there was in her a great depth of will, of delight in the world, and much energy for love. Her feminism, the sense of self and fight it engendered, the schemes and plans she had, the relationships - which she desired to take this form and not that form - the things she had made herself know, and all the understanding this gave, seemed to illuminate her tonight as she went forward, an Indian woman, to live a useful life in white England.