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I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. ’ Tears glistened in her eyes. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. He said the place had gone to wrack.
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