" Ah Cum nodded. like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. Martha had been more to her than that. Her pa was only the smithy. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. That is not reasonable. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. Wild never was the associate of thieves.
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