, coming over from the Roman Catholic
cathedral. When she had passed she looked back, with that
imperious swing that is almost a command, at me, as my friends
distinctly admitted. They advised me to follow her; I did so, and
she turned a pretty, blushing face and pair of dark gray eyes,
with just the kind of eyebrows I liked: brown, very level, rather
thick, but long. Her teeth and mouth were perfect, and she spoke
with a slight Irish brogue. She let me do all the talking while
she took my measure. God knows what she saw in me! I spoke in an
affected manner, I remember, imitating some swell character I had
seen on the stage a night or two before, but I was wise enough
not to talk too much and to behave myself. She promised to meet
me again and made the appointment. She was a school-teacher and
engaged to be married to some one else. She meant to amuse
herself her own way before she married. The second night I met
her she allowed me to kiss her as much as I liked and promised
all her favors for the third night. We took a long walk, and in
the dark she gave herself to me, but I hurt her so much I had to
stop two or three times. She had had connection only once, years
before, when at school herself. She was inclined to be sensual,
but she was young, fresh, and pretty, and her kisses turned my
head. I fell genuinely in love with her and told her so, one
night when she was particularly fascinating, with the tears in my
eyes; and her face met mine with equal love. The first night or
two I had felt no pleasure--whether through years of self-abuse
or not I do not know,--but this night my whole being was excited.
I met her once and sometimes twice a week and was always thinking
of her. My sister saw me looking love-sick one day and I heard
her say 'He's in love,' which rather flattered me, and I looked
more love-sick and idiotic than ever. It was all wrong and
perverted. She continued to meet her _fiance_, and intended to
marry him. We both spoke of 'him' as an adultress speaks of her
husband. That high level of tears and childlike joy in our youth
and love was never reached again. But I realized her _sex_, her
kisses, her presence--after all those years of horror (if she had
only known)--more even than the sexual act itself; while she, as
time went on, commenced to show a curiosity which