Excrement Father said like sweating.
And I saying All right.
Wonder.
Go on and wonder.
If it had been cloudy I could have looked at the window, thinking what he said about idle habits.
Thinking it would be nice for them down at New London if the weather held up like this.
Why shouldn't it?
The month of brides, the voice that breathed She ran right out of the mirror, out of the banked scent.
Roses.
Roses.
Mr and Mrs Jason Richmond Compson announce the marriage of.
Roses. Not virgins like dogwood, milkweed.
I said I have committed incest, Father I said.
Roses.
Cunning and serene.
If you attend Harvard one year, but dont see the boat-race, there should be a refund.
Let Jason have it.
Give Jason a year at Harvard.
Shreve stood in the door, putting his collar on, his glasses glinting rosily, as though he had washed them with his face.
"You taking a cut this morning?"
"Is it that late?"
He looked at his watch.
"Bell in two minutes."
"I didn't know it was that late." He was still looking at the watch, his mouth shaping. "I'll have to hustle.
I cant stand another cut.
The dean told me last week--" He put the watch back into his pocket.
Then I quit talking.
"You'd better slip on your pants and run," he said.
He went out.
I got up and moved about, listening to him through the wall.
He entered the sitting-room, toward the door.
"Aren't you ready yet?"
"Not yet.
Run along.
I'll make it."
He went out.
The door closed.
His feet went down the corridor.
Then I could hear the watch again.
I quit moving around and went to the window and drew the curtains aside and watched them running for chapel, the same ones fighting the same heaving coat-sleeves, the same books and flapping collars flushing past like debris on a flood, and Spoade.
Calling Shreve my husband.
Ah let him alone, Shreve said, if he's got better sense than to chase after the little dirty sluts, whose business.
In the South you are ashamed of being a virgin.
Boys.
Men.
They lie about it.
Because it means less to women, Father said.
He said it was men invented virginity not women.
Father said it's like death: only a state in which the others are left and I said, But to believe it doesn't matter and he said, That's what's so sad about anything: not only virginity and I said, Why couldn't it have been me and not her who is unvirgin and he said, That's why that's sad too; nothing is even worth the changing of it, and Shreve said if he's got better sense than to chase after the little dirty sluts and I said Did you ever have a sister?
Did you?