“I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. “I do love you. It is we who have become the parasites and toys. . ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend.
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