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           Butletaseriousdevotiontoonewomanenterthepictureandtheywouldinevitablyfindout.

           ThereweretimeswhenonlykneelingonthemarblefloorofthepalacechapeluntilhewasstiffwithphysicalpainpreventedhimfromcatchingthenexttrainbacktoGillyandDrogheda.Hehadtoldhimselfthathewassimplythevictimofloneliness,thathemissedthehumanaffectionhehadknownonDrogheda.HetoldhimselfnothinghadchangedwhenheyieldedtoapassingweaknessandkissedMeggieback;thathisloveforherwasstilllocatedinrealmsoffancyanddelight,thatithadnotpassedintoadifferentworldwhichhadadistracting,disturbingwholenesstoittheearlierdreamshadnot.Forhecouldn’tadmitanythinghadchanged,andhekeptMeggieinhismindasalittlegirl,shuttingoutanyvisionswhichmightcontradictthis.

           Hehadbeenwrong.Thepaindidn’tfade.Itseemedtogrowworse,andinacolder,uglierway.Before,hislonelinesshadbeenanimpersonalthing,hehadneverbeenabletosaytohimselfthatthepresenceinhislifeofanyonebeingcouldremedyit.Butnowlonelinesshadaname:Meggie.Meggie,Meggie,Meggie…

           HecameoutofhisreverietofindArchbishopdiContini-Verchesestaringathimunwinkingly,andthoselargedarkeyeswerefarmoredangerouslyomniscientthantheroundvividorbsofhispresentmaster