Reuben thought: He is speaking only as convention allows; I must not make it mean what it cannot. He said rather clumsily: "Mr. Welland, if I'm to be a doctor, some time I shall be obliged to attend smallpox cases, whether or not I have the disease and the immunity it brings."
"But not now!" said Mr. Welland sharply. "Well—they say it's worse for the young—and mine own observation—thou art still growing. I will not see—I will not allow—no, not now!" he said, and having laced the shoes after a fashion, he rose and went to the door. "I must go."
Still at the hearth, watching the fire because his vision needed a refuge, Reuben asked: "Sir, may I detain you for one question more?"
"Of course."
"Mr. Welland, I am fifteen. I have a man's body—came to the change two years ago, nor am I ignorant of its meaning. Why have I never desired women?"
The fire murmured in peace; Reuben held out his hand to it, watching the aureole of light around the fingers cleanly defined. Eventually Mr. Welland spoke. "Never ask that of anyone else. I am glad, I suppose, that you asked me. Never ask it of anyone else."
"I never could," said Reuben to the fire. "It would never occur to me."
"Especially not of a priest."
"I have no need for any sort of priest," said Reuben Cory.
"I know. I say that because a priest is commonly the most earnest in nourishing and supporting men's hate for whatever is unlike themselves. I have never understood why it should be so—Jesus, if I rightly remember, did not assert that there was only one path of virtue. Well—the desire of women may come to thee at a later time."