第12部分(第5/7 頁)

hen　hecovered　her　face　with　kisses；　her　face；　neck；　arms；　and　breasts。

‘You　stink　of　whisky。　Let　me　alone。’

‘Ah。　I　ain’t　the　only　one　got　a　tongue。　What　you　got　to　say　to　this？　And　his　hand　strokedthe　inside　of　her　thigh。

‘Stop。’

‘I　ain’t　going　to　stop。　This　is　sweet　talk；　baby。’

Ten　years。　Their　battle　never　ended；　they　never　bought　a　home。　He　died　in　France。　To…night　sheremembered　details　of　those　years　which　she　thought　she　had　forgotten；　and　at　last　she　felt　thestony　ground　of　her　heart　break　up；　and　tears；　as　difficult　and　slow　as　blood；　began　to　tricklethrough　her　fingers。　This　the　old　woman　above　her　somehow　divined；　and　she　cried：　‘Yes；　honey。

You　just　let　go；　honey。　Let　Him　bring　you　low　so　He　can　raise　you　up。’　And　was　this　the　way　sheshould　have　gone？　Had　she　been　wrong　to　fight　so　hard？　Now　she　was　an　old　woman；　and　allalone；　and　she　was　going　to　die。　And　she　had　nothing　for　all　her　battles。　It　had　all　e　to　this：　shewas　on　her　face　before　the　altar；　crying　to　God　for　mercy。　Behind　her　she　heard　Gabriel　cry：　‘Blessyour　name；　Jesus！’　and；　thinking　of　him　and　the　high　road　of　holiness　he　had　traveled；　her　mindswung　like　a　needle；　and　she　thought　of　Deborah。

Deborah　had　written　her；　not　many　times；　but　in　a　rhythm　that　seemed　to　remark　each　crisisin　her　life　with　Gabriel；　and　once；　during　the　time　she　and　Frank　were　still　together；　she　hadreceived　from　Deborah　a　letter　that　she　had　still：　it　was　locked　to…night　in　her　handbag；　which　layon　the　altar。　She　had　always　meant　to　show　this　letter　to　Gabriel　one　day；　but　she　never　had。　Shehad　talked　with　Frank　about　it　late　one　night　while　he　lay　in　bed　whistling　some　ragtag　tune　and　she　sat　before　the　mirror　and　rubbed　bleaching　cream　into　her　skin。　The　letter　lay　open　b