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She
's
right
,
of
course
.
A
sham
,
a
total
sham
.
No
priest
,
no
man
.
Only
someone
who
wishes
he
knew
how
to
be
either
.
No
!
Not
either
!
Priest
and
man
can
not
coexist
--
to
be
a
man
is
to
be
no
priest
.
Why
did
I
ever
tangle
my
feet
in
her
web
?
Her
poison
is
strong
,
perhaps
stronger
than
I
guess
.
What
's
in
the
letter
?
How
like
Mary
to
bait
me
!
How
much
does
she
know
,
how
much
does
she
simply
guess
?
What
is
there
to
know
,
or
guess
?
Only
futility
,
and
loneliness
.
Doubt
,
pain
.
Always
pain
.
Yet
you
're
wrong
,
Mary
.
I
can
get
it
up
.
It
's
just
that
I
do
n't
choose
to
,
that
I
've
spent
years
proving
to
myself
it
can
be
controlled
,
dominated
,
subjugated
.
For
getting
it
up
is
the
activity
of
a
man
,
and
I
am
a
priest
.
Someone
was
weeping
in
the
cemetery
.
Meggie
,
of
course
.
No
one
else
would
think
of
it
.
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He
picked
up
the
skirts
of
his
soutane
and
stepped
over
the
wrought-iron
railing
,
feeling
it
was
inevitable
that
he
had
not
yet
done
with
Meggie
on
this
night
.
If
he
confronted
one
of
the
women
in
his
life
,
he
must
also
deal
with
the
other
.
His
amused
detachment
was
coming
back
;
she
could
not
disperse
that
for
long
,
the
old
spider
.
The
wicked
old
spider
.
God
rot
her
,
God
rot
her
!
"
Darling
Meggie
,
do
n't
cry
,
"
he
said
,
sitting
on
the
dew-wet
grass
beside
her
.
"
Here
,
I
'll
bet
you
do
n't
have
a
decent
handkerchief
.
Women
never
do
.
Take
mine
and
dry
your
eyes
like
a
good
girl
.
"
She
took
it
and
did
as
she
was
told
.
"
You
have
n't
even
changed
out
of
your
finery
.
Have
you
been
sitting
here
since
midnight
?
"
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"
Yes
.
"
"
Do
Bob
and
Jack
know
where
you
are
?
"
"
I
told
them
I
was
going
to
bed
.
"