He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. Mr. “Girls. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. I was being stupid. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. . . An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. McClintock does it; and he knows why.
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