by the noise of outgoing, said low:
―Is it your view, then, that she was not faithful to the poet?
Alarmed face asks me.
- Why did he come?
- Courtesy or an inward light?
―Where there is a reconciliation, Stephen said, there must have been first a sundering.
―Yes.
Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a runaway in blighted treeforks from hue and cry. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the chase. Women he won to him, tender people, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully tapsters’ wives. Fox and geese. And in New place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as fresh as cinnamon, now her