’ ‘Ah. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. “In it lies the secret poison he used to turn you into an Oracle. “In any case, I decline to see you alone. “What do you think you are doing?” He asked. I think too much about myself. Every word you utter puzzles me. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. He had seen the announcement of your marriage in the papers, and he imagined that I simply wanted to remain unknown because of your husband’s puritanism. “I think that you are very dense. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. ’ ‘That wasn’t my fault. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation.
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