“ ...Come, suck me, you two dear ones!”
—Do I see my love clear? If I do, I see a fading.... “I abdicate that sight, my dear Beloved. My hands must not shake, when you come back to me shaking.”
—What is love? what is a field?... a running of sweet grass over earth, grass leaping away from the earth in which it lives.... My love is you and you ... that is seeing enough!
—Love is the field and woodlands of the world.
She was a little woman waiting for her husband....
Strange news came to her world of Harry Howland Luve ... thrilled it, made it talk.... “Blood will tell.” ... “After the wild oats the sturdier planting....” “God has his way....” “From one drunkenness to another.” Fanny took to herself the news and felt it true. The path of her man came clear in her white mind.
—I feel him, all the way he has crawled livid red from my hands. He turns, full flow, to my breast! She saw his path like a writing.
The Reverend Doctor Poole brought her his gift of comfort wrapped in complacence.
She made him sit down, he chose the stiffest chair.—I must subdue myself, she felt. He was brittle, little. She held back the flood of herself. But it was easy since his sharp small eyes not knowing she was a flood, brought her help.