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Being the sons
of mothers whose husbands had blundered rather brutally through their
feminine sanctities, they were themselves too diffident and shy. They
could easier deny themselves than incur any reproach from a woman; for
a woman was like their mother, and they were full of the sense of their
mother. They preferred themselves to suffer the misery of celibacy,
rather than risk the other person.
He went back to her. Something in her, when he looked at her, brought
the tears almost to his eyes. One day he stood behind her as she sang.
Annie was playing a song on the piano. As Miriam sang her mouth seemed
hopeless. She sang like a nun singing to heaven. It reminded him so much
of the mouth and eyes of one who sings beside a Botticelli Madonna, so
spiritual. Again, hot as steel, came up the pain in him. Why must he ask
her for the other thing? Why was there his blood battling with her? If
only he could have been always gentle, tender with her, breathing with
her the atmosphere of reverie and religious dreams, he would give
his right hand.


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