My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. It heralded you, promised you. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. Her pa was only the smithy. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well. There you are! Girl spoilt for life. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Cast off this weakness.
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