Pool_2

Why did he come? He had no telephone and thought that love was exempt from contempt. "Tickets! I got me hands on two! Caitriona, me very own Caitlin ne Houlihan, they're putting together a dance at the university! Would you be going? Would'ya be liking my company? We could practice all the new ..." Gavin not only borrowed the name of Ireland incarnate in femininity, he toyed with the spelling as Katharine, Kate, Ca'it, to draw it closer and closer to its historic root, Catherine the Martyr of Alexandria as brought west by the crusaders. She was no mere infatuation. She was Celtic womanhood and history, together, seeking its pinnacle. Somehow he was born to help in that elevation. But pinnacles can be sharp, "GAVIN! Get! Now! We'll be flayed! An' besides, we're not old enough to be prancing about the university, not by ourselves. I think you've been in the yeast. Git! Git git git. I'll meet you at the hotel tonight. OK? Go on now!" She wouldn't allow him even a peck on her cheek as she arms and finger lengthed him, quickly scanning her eyes up and down the hopefully empty street. "I have to go to the bakery for Da. Now git. I'm telling you!" She granted him one linguistic concession, "Anocht." as he liked her to practice Gaelic. He was always testing his poetic ancient tongue on her discriminating ear. Campus was another world. There, young men and women were demonstrating a new intellectuality, singing songs of peace and equality. They were not like the songs from America, they were the very same songs from America. The times they were a changing, right? Well, actually, no. Not really, although campus had become more open. The more people of like mind gravitating there, the more there were to assert change in air. Change in the air is not a change in the gut. The gut still told you that many folks, hereabouts, were just plain mean.