Michael Malone - Weebly

analyst, that her husband could never give himself to so
uneasy, so forbidding, so ungiving a woman, that her
unwomanliness unmanned him and that the fault lay with
her father (whoever he was) or her nuns or some other
secret yet undelved for. Or she might have been told it
was a question of physical chemistry or of finding the
Platonic other half that perfectly matched her
incompleteness, that she had never been in love with
John Haig and was now half in love with Winslow
Abernathy, or that love was a myth and her career at
the post office unfulfilling, or she might have been told a
hundred other theories, all neatly fitted to the seams of
her life. But Mrs. Haig had never brought her soul to
any of those men of science who in her lifetime had
grown rich in the fast-growth industry of female
madness; nor had she consulted oracles in cards or
looked for the fault in her stars or gone to the books
that helped Ida Sniffell to help herself. Mrs. Haig had
had only one counselor. He had told her years ago that
she and John had been joined forever by God, and that
she had no choice but to choose love.
While saying so, Father Crisp of Our Lady of