“I don’t mean simply intensity of sensation. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. I understand. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. “It’s your birthday today, May Day.
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