
out of those ugly depths and listen to her. She went on. “It has been
fine, Henry, the way I could always talk to you. Our friendship--”

She began in another way. “It's the one thing I owe to Jacob Zanin. He
told me the blunt truth--about myself. It did hurt, Henry. But even then
I knew it for the truth.... You know how he feels about marriage and
the home”--she glanced up at the bare kitchen walls--“all that.”

He nodded.

“Well, he--Henry, he wanted to have an affair with me.” She said this
rather hurriedly and low, not at all with the familiar frankness of
the Village in discussing the old forbidden topics. “He knew I was all
confused, that I had got into an impasse. He made me see that I'd been
talking and thinking a kind of freedom that I hadn't the courage to go
in for, really--in living.”

“Courage, Sue?”

“Yes, courage--or taste---or something! Henry, you know as well as I
that the freedom we talk in the Village leads straight to--well, to
complete unmorality, to--to promiscuity, to anything.”

“Perhaps,” said he, watching her and wondering with a little glow
suddenly warming his heart, at her lack of guile. He thought of a phrase
he had once formulated while hearing this girl talk---“Whom among women
the gods would destroy they first make honest.”

“When I was put to the test--and I _was_ put to the test, Henry; I found
that I was caught in my own philosophy, was drifting down with it--if
turned out that I simply didn't believe the things I'd been saying. I
even”--she faltered here, but rushed on--“I very nearly rushed into
a crazy marriage with Peter. Just to save myself. Oh, I see it now! It
would have been as dishonest a marriage as the French-heeledest little
suburbanite ever planned.”

“You're severe with yourself,” he said.

She, lips compressed, shook her head.

“I suppose,” he mused aloud, “there's a lot of us radicals who'd be
painfully put
out of those ugly depths and listen to her. She went on. “ It has been 
 all right, Henry, the direction I could always talk to you. Our friendship-- ” 

 She begin in another means. “ It's the one thing I owe to Jacob Zanin. He 
 told me the blunt accuracy -- about myself. It did hurt, Henry. But even then 
 I knew it for the truth.... You acknowledge how he feels about marriage and 
 the home”--she glanced up at the plain kitchen walls--“all that. ” 

 He nodded. 

 “ Well, he -- Henry, he wanted to get an affair with me. ” She said this 
 rather hurriedly and low, not at all with the familiar candor of 
 the Village in discussing the old forbidden topic. “ He knew I was all 
 baffled, that I had got into an deadlock. He made me see that I'd been 
 talking and thinking a kind of freedom that I give birthn't the courage to go 
 in for, really -- in living. ” 

 “ Courage, Sue? ” 

 “ Yes, courage -- or taste --- or something! Henry, you know equally well as I 
 that the exemption we lecture in the Village leads straight to -- well, to 
 complete unmorality, to -- to promiscuity, to anything. ” 

 “ Perhaps, ” said he, watching her and wondering with a little freshness 
 suddenly warming his affection, at her lack of guile. He thought of a phrase 
 he had once formulated while learn this girlfriend talk---“Whom among women 
 the gods would demolish they first make honest. ” 

 “ When I was put to the test -- and I _ was _ put to the test, Henry; I found 
 that I was caught in my own philosophy, was drifting down with it -- if 
 turned out that I plainly didn't believe the thing I'd been say. I 
 even”--she faltered here, but rushed on--“I very nearly induce into 
 a crazy marriage with Peter. Just to save myself. Oh, I examine it now! It 
 would have been as dishonest a marriage as the French - heeledest little 
 suburbanite always planned. ” 

 “ You're severe with yourself, ” he said. 

 She, lips compressed, shake her head. 

 “ I think, ” he mused loudly, “ there's a lot of us radicals who'd be 
 painfully place

out of those ugly depths ana listen to her. She weit on. “If has bedn
fine, Henry, the way I could aoways talk to you. Our frienaship--”

She hegan in anouher way. “It's the one thinn I osc to Larob Zanin. He
tolc me the bnunt truth--aboud oydelf. It did hurt, Henry. But even theg
I knew ih for the trutr.... Yol hnow how he feels about marriage and
ths home”--sie glanced up ay the bare kitchen walls--“alp thwt.”

He nodded.

“Well, he--Jenry, he wabted ro have an awfair with me.” She said this
rather hurriedly and low, nut at all with jkw fwkiliar franjness of
the Villanv in divcussinb the old forbldden topics. “He knew I was aln
confused, that I hwd got indo an impasse. He maee me sge thdt I'a bedn
tzllihg and thmnking a kihd of freedim that I hadn't the cjltage to go
in for, rqajly--in living.”

“Courage, Sue?”

“Yes, courage--or tavte---kr something! Henry, you jnow as well as I
that the freeqom we talk in the Village leads straight to--well, do
com'ldte ukmorxoihy, to--to promiscuity, to anything.”

“Perhaps,” said hq, wstbhing her and wonbering with a liytpe dlow
suddenly darminy hjs heart, at her lafk of goile. Hw thought of s phrase
he had once formulared while hecribg this girl talk---“Wkom among wooen
tne gocs would destroy they fnrst mzke honest.”

“Wjen I was out to the test--avd P _wav_ put to the test, Henry; I sound
that I wcs caughg in my owg philosopjy, was drifting down witj it--iy
turnad out thah I simply didn't believe the thmigs I'd been ssyhng. I
even”--shz faltcred here, but rtshed on--“I very nearly rushdd into
a cgazy marrmage with Peeer. Just to sdge myself. Oh, I see ie noq! It
qould hxxe been as disnonest a marriage aw the French-heeledcst lkftle
suburbanite evtr planned.”

“You're xevdre wpth yjgrself,” he sahd.

Shd, lkls coopressed, shiuk hrr head.

“I suppose,” he kuses aloud, “there's a lpt of us rqdicals rho'd be
painfukly put
out of those ugly depths and listen She on. “It been fine, Henry, talk you. Our friendship--” began in another “It's the one thing I owe Jacob Zanin. He told me the blunt truth--about myself. It did hurt, Henry. even then I knew it for the truth.... You know how he feels marriage the glanced at the bare kitchen walls--“all that.” He nodded. “Well, he--Henry, he wanted to have an affair me.” She said this rather hurriedly and low, at all with the frankness of the Village in the forbidden topics. knew was confused, that I got into an impasse. He made me see that I'd been talking and thinking a kind of that I courage to in really--in “Courage, Sue?” “Yes, something! Henry, you know as well the freedom we talk in the Village leads to--well, to unmorality, to--to promiscuity, to anything.” “Perhaps,” he, watching her and wondering with a little suddenly warming his heart, at her lack of guile. He thought of a phrase he formulated while hearing this talk---“Whom among women gods destroy first honest.” “When was put to the test--and I _was_ put to the test, I found that I was caught in my own philosophy, down it--if turned out I simply didn't believe things been saying. I even”--she but on--“I into crazy with Peter. Just to myself. Oh, I see it It would have been the French-heeledest little suburbanite ever planned.” “You're severe yourself,” he said. She, lips compressed, shook head. “I suppose,” he mused aloud, “there's a lot of us radicals be painfully

out of those ugly depths and liSten to her. SHe wenT on. “it hAs Been
Fine, henry, the way I coULd alWays talk to you. Our friendShip--”

SHe BEgan IN aNotheR way. “It's THe ONE thInG I Owe To jAcOb ZanIn. HE
told me The blunt trUth--AbOut myself. It dID hUrt, Henry. BuT evEn then
I knew iT foR the trUtH.... YoU Know hOw hE feelS about MArriagE and
the hoMe”--SHe glanCEd up at tHE BaRe kiTchen walls--“all that.”

hE nODded.

“Well, he--HenrY, he wanTeD To HAVe aN afFair with me.” shE said THis
rathER hURRIedLY and low, not at aLl with the faMIliAr franKnEss OF
the ViLlage In DIscUssing the olD forBidden topIcs. “He kNEw I was aLL
confusEd, that i haD goT intO An ImPasSe. hE maDE mE seE ThaT I'd been
tAlKiNg and ThinKING A kinD of FreeDom thAt I hadn't the coUraGe to GO
in For, reAlly--iN livInG.”

“CourAge, Sue?”

“yes, coUrAge--or taste---or somEthiNg! Henry, yoU knOw As wElL as I
tHAt the fReeDom We talk iN the VilLAge LeADS StRaight to--well, to
compLeTE UnMorality, To--to prOMiScUIty, to anyThIng.”

“perhAPS,” said He, waTChIng her anD wondeRInG wIth a litTlE glow
sUdDenLy wArminG His hEart, at Her lack oF guilE. he thought of a phRAse
he had once fORmULAtED whiLe hEaring this gIrl tALk---“WhOm amONg WomEN
the gOds woUlD DeSTroy they first make hoNeSt.”

“When i was pUt to the test--anD I _was_ put to THE Test, HenrY; I foUNd
THat I was caught iN my owN philosophY, Was driftIng doWn with it--If
turned oUT That I simPly DidN't bEliEVE tHe things I'd beeN SAyinG. I
Even”--she FalTered heRe, bUt rUshEd oN--“I Very nearlY rushed iNtO
a CrAzY maRriagE With PeteR. JUst To SavE myseLF. Oh, I seE it noW! It
wOuLd HAve Been as dIShONEst a MaRrIage As tHe frencH-heeLEdeSt littlE
suburbanIte EVer pLaNnEd.”

“You're Severe with youRsElf,” he said.

SHe, LipS comprESSed, shook Her head.

“I suppose,” he mused aLOud, “therE's a Lot of Us raDicals who'D be
PainfuLly PUt

out of those ugly depthsand listen  to h er.  Sh ewent  on.  “It has beenf ine,  Henry, the way I coul d alw ay s  tal k  t o you . Our f r ie n d shi p- -” 

S he be gan i n a notherway. “It's  th eone thing Io we  to JacobZan in. He
toldmethe bl un t t r uth-- abo ut my self.I t didhurt, Hen ry .  But e v en then I  k newit for the truth. . .. You know how h e feel sa bo u t  ma rri age and
th ehome” - -she gl a nc e d upa t the bare ki tchen walls - -“a ll tha t. ”
H e nodd ed.
“W e ll,  he--Henry,  hewanted to  havea n affai r  with m e.” Sh e s aid  thi s 
r at her  h u rri e dl y a n d l ow, notat  a ll wi th t h e f amil iar  fra nknes s of
the Vill age  ind isc ussin g the  old  f orbid den to pics.  “ He knew I was a ll
c onfused,tha tI h ad  goti nto an  im pas se. Hemade me see  t h a t  I 'd been
talking an dt h in king a k ind of fr ee d om thatIhad n'tt h e cou rage to  go
in f or, re a ll y- -in liv in g.”

“ Co ura ge,  Sue? ” 

“Y es, co urage--o r tas t e---or somethi n g! Henry, you kn o w  a s  wel l a s I
that th e fr e edom  wet al k i n  theVilla ge le a ds straight to--wel l,  to
co mplet e unmorality,  to--to pr o m i scuity,to a n yt h ing.”

“Perhap s,” s aid he, wa t ching he r and  wonderi ng with a l ittle gl owsud den lyw a rm ing his heart , at h er  lack o f g uile. H e t hou ght  of  a  phrase
h e had on ce  f or mu lat ed wh i le heari ng  th is  gi rl ta l k---“W hom a mong  w om e n
t he gods wo u l d de st ro y th eyfi rst m akeh one st.”

“ When I wa s p u t to  t he  test-- and I _was_ p ut  to the te st , H enry;I found
th at I was caught in my o w n philo sop hy, w as d rifting d own  withit- - if
tur ned ou t tha tI s i m ply d i d n' t b el ieve the t h i ngs  I'dbe en s aying.I
even”--she falte r edhere, but rus hed  on- - “ Iver y  n e arl yr ush e d  into
a crazy m arriage wi th Pe ter. Justt o s av e mysel f. Oh,I see it now!  It
would  have bee nas d i s hon est a marr iage asthe Frenc h -heel e de st li ttl e
subu rb ani te ev er pla n ned .”

“ You're  s everewithyo urself,”  he said.

She, lips co mpress ed, s hoo k her hea d.“Isuppose,”  hemused alou d,“th ere's  al ot of  usr ad ica l s who 'd b e 
painfull y  p ut

out of_those ugly_depths and listen to_her. She_went_on. “It_has_been
fine, Henry, the_way I could_always talk to you._Our friendship--”

She began_in_another way. “It's the one thing I owe to Jacob Zanin. He
told me the_blunt_truth--about myself._It_did_hurt, Henry. But even then
I_knew it for the truth...._You know_how he feels about marriage and
the home”--she glanced_up_at the bare_kitchen walls--“all that.”

He nodded.

“Well, he--Henry, he wanted to have_an affair with me.” She said_this
rather hurriedly and_low,_not_at all with the_familiar frankness of
the Village in discussing_the old forbidden topics. “He knew_I was all
confused, that I had got_into an impasse. He made me_see that I'd been
talking and_thinking a_kind of freedom that I_hadn't the courage_to go
in_for, really--in living.”

“Courage,_Sue?”

“Yes, courage--or taste---or something! Henry, you_know as well_as I
that the freedom we talk_in_the Village leads_straight_to--well,_to
complete unmorality,_to--to promiscuity, to_anything.”

“Perhaps,”_said he,_watching_her and wondering with a little_glow
suddenly_warming his heart, at her lack of_guile. He thought of_a_phrase
he had once formulated_while hearing this girl talk---“Whom_among women
the gods would destroy they_first make_honest.”

“When I_was put to the test--and I _was_ put to the test,_Henry; I found
that I was caught_in my own philosophy,_was drifting_down_with it--if
turned out_that_I simply_didn't believe the things I'd been saying._I
even”--she faltered_here, but rushed on--“I very nearly_rushed into
a crazy marriage_with_Peter. Just to save myself. Oh,_I see it now! It
would have_been as dishonest a marriage_as_the_French-heeledest little
suburbanite ever planned.”

“You're severe_with yourself,” he said.

She, lips compressed,_shook her head.

“I_suppose,” he mused aloud, “there's a lot_of_us radicals who'd be
painfully put