Hector France,
The Grip of Desire: The Story of a Parish-Priest
“ The priest's eyes stayed with ecstasy on the white line, the breadth of two fingers, displayed between her boot and the bottom of her dress.—I am truly ashamed, she murmured, yes, truly ashamed to disturb you at such an hour.—Ought not the priest's house, said Marcel, to be open to all at any hour? It is open to the poor man who passes by; it is open sometimes to the vagabond; why should it not be to an angelic young lady who seeks a shelter against the storm?—It is true, it is the house of God, said Marianne. The young girl looked at the priest, smiled and then became thoughtful. ”
