By the time that this drama was written, however, Millay also had published a number of lyrics of heterosexual inspiration. Indeed, among the conventionally minded she had gained a quite shocking reputation on the strength of them, for they antedated the now notorious Twenties. Many of them are flippant or bitter in comparison to those inspired by women, and they flaunt inconstancy and promiscuity. See for instance the sonnets “Oh think not I am faithful to a vow,” “I shall forget you presently, my dear,”[57] “What lips my lips have kissed ... I have forgotten,” and “I being born a woman....”[58] In short, these betray conscious striving toward a masculine sexual standard to match that of her partners. They remind one that “Vincent” had concealed her sex at the date of her first publication. A critic, citing in an adult review the “phenomenal” quality of a _St. Nicholas_ entry Millay wrote at fourteen, confessed uncertainty whether the poem was written by a boy or a girl.[59] Fellow poets reading “Renascence” thought it a man’s work, and a Barnard professor during her brief months there (repairing entrance requirement deficiencies for Vassar) pronounced “Interim” to be written in the character of a man.[60] The same viewpoint marks her libretto for Deems Taylor’s opera, _The King’s Henchman_. After her marriage in 1923 all of Millay’s published verse was marked by greater emotional reticence, and if she wrote privately anything comparable to her earlier variant lyrics the chances are against its ever being made public. (There has been no providential Reinach to salvage her reliques for posterity, and it is rumored that censorship is being exercised. Letters have been admitted to the published volume of her correspondence which imply some early heterosexual indiscretion, while all variant traces have been eradicated save a proper name or two[61] in connection with which the published implications are unrevealing. To the student of variance, however, they are significant.) The one notable exception to this general reticence is _Fatal Interview_ (1930), of which Atkins said in 1936 that she, herself, must be the first post-Victorian critic on record to state in cold print ... that a still breathing married woman, name and dates given, has written a poem of extra-marital passion, not as a literary exercise in purple penmanship, but as an honest record of immediate experience.[62]