14

"It isn't my fault," said Chubby Fielder. "It isn't my fault. I tried everything.

"I wish there were nunneries. I must go away from this. I must hide. He got so angry…

"If ever I take a lover the Master will kill me."

"But He didn't say that!"

"No. He didn't say it. But he was so upset! He was so upset. At having forgotten himself. That's what upset him. All crying and then furious. Overbearing and then kind of ashamed of himself and then ashamed of me. 'I'd like to wipe you out of existence,' he said. He said that. Suppose he meant that! And then he kissed me and kind of threw me away from him. I'm terred. How can I get out of this? Where can I go, Mr. Thirp?"

"Don't you worry, Chubby, my dear," said Thirp, and made a sort of dabbing pat at her bare shoulder as if to reassure her. "If necessary you shall vanish. I'll just smuggle you away. Though I doubt if I'll have to do that. But, mind you, never talk about this. Never say a word and you will be safe. But if ever he thinks you have told on him, even as little as you have told me, I can't answer for it."

"But what have I told you? It isn't anything—it's what I feel. I haven't said a thing. Not actually. Have I said anything?"

"No."

"I've said nothing. Practically it was nothing."

"It's just how much it was nothing—that you mustn't tell anyone," said Thirp. "If you talk—"

"Is it likely?" said Chubby.

"If you don't talk, Chubby. If he believes you haven't talked. If you keep everything there was between you, between you—even from me. Maybe—I can't promise, mind you—but maybe he will see you again…"

"Bert—" began Chubby, which was her way of saying "But."

"Yees, Chubby," said Thirp. "Quite possibly. If you are silent and discreet. Very discreet.

"And if ever you find yourself with him again, Chubby," said Thirp. "Say this to him; say—'You are God.'" Chubby repeated that in a whisper.

"But why?"

"He'll like it."

"I shan't ever be with him again," she said, "so what's the good?…"

Rud did see her again, but all that happened between them was wrapped in mystery even from Thirp. Quite possibly little or nothing happened between them. Honi soit qui mal y pense. And Chiffan to the end of his life never even knew that there was such a person as Chubby, much less how much more pleasant the company of a being like Chubby could be to the unlimited, fear–haunted egotism of Rud than that of any fully–grown, level–spirited woman.