” Mrs. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. There was plenty of sweet water. Nothing was given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that it had to offer. Her lover surely did not 223 understand the implications of what he had asked for and his lust blinded him to the realities of existence even now. I—I hurt myself. “Well, you know. Epithalamy might do.
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