And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Go easy. There was only one sound—the fall of the sea upon the main beach, and even that said: "Hush! Hush! Hus-s-sh!" Not a leaf stirred, not a shadow moved.
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