God was God's name just as his name was Stephen. There was a roomful of old books at Bly--last-century fiction, some of it, which, to the extent of a distinctly deprecated renown, but never to so much as that of a stray specimen, had reached the sequestered home and appealed to the unavowed curiosity of my youth. The air of wealth and repose diffused about them seemed to comfort their neediness. You remember? Then you used to address the jesuits as father, you remember? I ask myself about you: IS HE A INNOCENT AS HIS SPEECH? --I'm a simple person, said Davin.
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