"I nearly was this morning. If it hadn't been for that nice kind nail in
the roof! Wagner knew all about this when he made the witch-woman
realize that her kiss had unlocked all the world's wisdom for the fool.
And one can't help wondering how it is that a thing so natural and
beautiful can be bad for one--"
She began to bite her thumb-nail fiercely and stopped, disgusted with
herself, as she realized how she had often condemned Louis for exactly
the same habit when he got perplexed.
"You see!" she told the sun desperately, "even a little thing like that!
I do think we're censorious and cruel to each other."
She began to walk about the roof. Her foot was bleeding neglected; at
every step she left a little, red print unnoticed.
"Of course it's natural and beautiful--and abominably instructive! Where
the wrong comes in is that it gets you down, beats you, takes hold of
you. Eating bread would be wrong if you made an orgy of it. So would
religion, or anything. All this time I've been posing as something so
splendid, wanting to save Louis from Drink; I've been deceiving myself.
I've been in love with him. And it's the sort of love that would soon
degenerate into an orgy--if I let it!"
She felt that she was so full of ideas that she was getting muddled,
but one thing was very clear.
"I wonder if that queer remark in Genesis, 'Adam knew Eve, his wife,'
means this strange understanding that has happened to me to-night? I've
often been puzzled by what it could mean.
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