But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. I’ve got a streak of male. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime.
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