He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. Die, indeed! We’re going to do work; we’re going to unfold about each other; we’re going to have children. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. She was suddenly grave. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea.
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