“I’ll manage Mammy.”
“Whom couldn’t you manage?”
—You.... I leap gaily clapping my hands, my Love. I leap on Pain, on the shadow of Doubt I leap. What can I do with you?
She was on her knees: her arms embraced his legs, her cheek was hot against his cold shoes.
—Under the Pain is there sunlight for dancing? Under the doubt is there a solid world?
“She loves me,” said to himself Harry Howland Luve. “Blessed sweet!”—Well, I’ve married her. She’s married to a Luve. She’s leaping, dancing on a joy I can understand.
* * *
Mrs. Luve and Mr. Samson talked of small matters pleasantly.
—He sits there sweetly, chatting of small matters. O it is good. O it is cool water. Bless you! He leaves me alone, he does not touch me. I am myself. We move marvelously into myself. He is content there, merely talking, with me a woman, of small matters.
—I have a mind, good mind for others. You shall have the benefit of that whenever you need it. I’ll find out whenever ... good good Boy!...