He was tall and thin, yet he gave the air of softness. His big black eyes being soft, his delicate hair that lay thinning on the transparent tinge of his brow gave his sapling body the air of holding a softness. He had small dimpled hands tapering to fingers with which to hold her who was hard and intact. “O I love it!” She did not love the hard Luve Mansion, her own home had been prim and small, her hardness needed tender and small things of the world. “O I love it, Harry! I’m glad it’s no larger. O--what a kitchen! Can’t I do for you right snug in that gem of a kitchen.” “No, sweet, not that. Mammy Sue comes along. I can’t say No to Mammy. I can’t begin now saying No ... when I’m married. She’s been waiting’, fixin’ for that. She’s been totin’ me from a baby just for that. You’ll surrender, Honey! She loves you for making me surrender ... to her.” “And I bake such biscuits.” “You may ... when Mammy’s not looking.” She made him sit down. “You’re so high!” She clapped her hands. Sharp, she kissed his hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Sharp kisses. Each finger tip she kissed. “O--O you!” She opened his waistcoat, she opened one button of his shirt. A sharp kiss on his chest. She leaped away, clapped her hands. “I’ll manage Mammy.” “Whom couldn’t you manage?” --You.... I leap gaily clapping my hands, my Love. I leap on Pain, on the shadow of Doubt I leap. What can I do with you? She was on her knees: her arms embraced his legs, her cheek was hot against his cold shoes. --Under the Pain is there sunlight for dancing? Under the doubt is there a solid world? “She loves me,” said to himself Harry Howland Luve. “Blessed sweet!”--Well, I’ve married her. She’s married to a Luve. She’s leaping, dancing on a joy I can understand. * * * * * Mrs. Luve and Mr. Samson talked of small matters pleasantly. --He sits there sweetly, chatting of small matters. O it is good. O it is cool water. Bless you! He leaves me alone, he does not touch me. I am myself. We move marvelously into myself. He is content there, merely talking, with me a woman, of small matters. --I have a mind, good mind for others. You shall have the benefit of that whenever you need it. I’ll find out whenever ... good good Boy!... --I am alone. That is the blessing of talking with you here on cool small matters. You do not touch me as the world does when I am alone with no one. O you heal me: will you at least, after these years, these years, such years, be my healer? Not touching! The heal and the health and the miracle of that. Not touched, at last. The years full of bloody bubbles, each year a bubble of my blood unhealed. I shall not tell you of myself. You will feel.... --For thanks of God ... your God.... I embrace you, Boy. When one has a God one can have cool small matters. Let us talk on, for your God’s sake, of your cool small matters. * * * * * “Why do you drink? O Harry ... why, why now?”