’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. “I gave your name. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. ‘Oh, peste. But there is something in your voice that makes me distrust you. Could you just let me in? I have a surprise for him. ” The man’s face was dark with passion. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger.
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