Places, I found, were daily given away, And yet no friendly gazette mentioned Gay. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. “They have all been trying to turn my head. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable.
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