Night of a Thousand Stars Read Free

Love?”
    “That’s what Mrs. Stopes called it in
Married Love
. She says that no matter what differences a couple might have in religion or politics or social customs, if they are compatible in the Art of Love, all may be adjusted.”
    “I see.” He sounded strangled again.
    “So, one night after everyone had retired, I crept to Gerald’s room and insisted we discover if we were mutually compatible.”
    “And were you?”
    “No,” I said flatly. “I thought it was my fault at first. But I chose the date so carefully to make sure my sex-tide would be at its highest.”
    “Your sex-tide?”
    “Yes. Really, you ought to know these things if you mean to counsel your parishioners. The achievement of perfect marital harmony only comes with an understanding of the sex-tides—the ebb and flow of a person’s desires and inclinations for physical pleasure.”
    He cleared his throat lavishly. “Oh, the sex-tides. Of course.”
    “In any event, Gerald and I were most definitely not compatible.” I paused then plunged on. “To begin with, he wouldn’t even take off his pyjamas when we were engaged in the Act of Love.”
    The curate’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Now that shocks me.”
    “Doesn’t it? What sort of man wants a barrier of cloth between himself and the skin of his beloved? I have read the
Song of Solomon
, you know. It’s a very informative piece of literature and it was quite explicit with all the talk of breasts like twin fawns and eating of the secret honeycomb and honey. I presume you’ve read the
Song of Solomon
? It is in the Bible, after all.”
    “It is,” he agreed. “Quite the most interesting book, if you ask me.” Again there was a flash of something wicked as he shot me a quick look. “So, was your betrothed a young god with legs like pillars of marble and a body like polished ivory?”
    I pulled a face. “He was not. That was a very great disappointment, let me tell you. And then it was over with so quickly—I mean, I scarcely had time to get accustomed to the strangeness of it because, let’s be frank, there is something so frightfully silly about doing
that
, although you probably don’t know yourself, being a member of the clergy and all. But before I could quite get a handle on things, it was finished.”
    “Finished?” he said, his hands tight on the steering wheel.
    “Finished. At least, Gerald was,” I added sulkily. “He gave a great shudder and made an odd sort of squeaking sound.”
    “Squeaking sound?”
    “Yes.” I tipped my head, thinking. “Like a rabbit that’s just seen a fox. And then he rolled over and went to sleep just like that.”
    “Philistine,” he pronounced.
    “Then you do understand! How important the physical side of marriage is, I mean. Particularly with a husband like Gerald. One would need a satisfactory time in the bedroom to make up for—” I clapped a hand to my mouth. He smiled then, indulgently, and I dropped my hand, but I still felt abashed. “Oh, that was unkind. Gerald has many sterling attributes. Sterling,” I assured him.
    “
Sterling
is what one wants out of one’s silver. Not a husband,” he said mildly.
    I sighed in contentment. “You are good at this. You understand. And you haven’t made me feel guilty over the sin of it, although you mustn’t tell anyone, but I don’t really believe in sin at all. I know that’s a wicked thing to say, but I think all God really expects is a little common sense and kindness out of us. Surely He’s too busy to keep a tally of all our misdeeds. That would make Him nothing more than a sort of junior clerk with a very important sense of Himself, wouldn’t it?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Oh, I know you can’t agree with me. You make your career on sin, just as much as anybody who sells liquor or naughty photographs. Sin is your bread and butter.”
    “You have a unique way of looking at the world, Miss Hammond.”
    “I think it’s because I’ve been so much on my