Free Such Is My Beloved by Morley Callaghan

down the room. Several times he took out his watch, looked at it and sighed. He kept thinking he ought to go home, but then he would whisper to himself, “I’ll wait twenty minutes more.” He was almost afraid to go without seeing Ronnie, fearing that if he missed her he would lose track of her for a while and would not know what was happening to her. At last he stopped, smiled at Midge, took from his pocket an envelope containing the money he had borrowed, and with a strangely diffident apologetic nod, he slipped it under the cloth cover on the dresser. “I don’t want you to have to worry about how you’re going to live, do you see,” he said.
    Midge stiffened and craned her neck, longing to look in the envelope, but she held herself there, full of wonder at him, following him with her eyes as he went up and down the floor with the worried expression growing more severe. He kept taking out his watch. Finally he said, almost humbly, “Midge, would you do a small favor for me? Come around to the church some time. Just of an evening when the church is full. Will you do that?”
    â€œI guess so,” she said, looking upset and a bit resentful. He loved to have this response and see that indignant expression.It made him feel there was a depth to her that could be touched, some kind of feeling, even if only resentment, and he was much encouraged. “There’s passion still there,” he thought. “Just say you’ll come,” he said.
    â€œAll right, Father,” she said awkwardly. “I’ll do that for you. It won’t cost me nothing, will it?”
    â€œBring Ronnie, too,” he said.
    He wanted to wait till Ronnie came in. The longer he waited the more he wondered where she was and what she was doing. He began to make uneasy, sporadic conversation with Midge, but whenever she began to get interested he would become thoughtful and silent. He saw that Midge was getting sleepy. Once he yawned himself. They both lay back and began to doze. Then Father Dowling sat up abruptly, saw Midge’s eyes closed, saw how long her lashes were, and how her lips were parted and her breast was softly swelling, and he went out without disturbing her.

 
    EIGHT
    T he two girls often used to think that Father Dowling might actually be in love with them, he was so patient and tender. Sometimes he would pat one of them on the head, or hold out his hands to them. They used to try and sit on his knee or put their arms around him and looked puzzled when he pushed them away. They could not understand the nature of his feeling for them. They could not believe that sooner or later he would not want either one of them.
    He met many of their friends, street girls, who came very late, regarded him with hostility and got used to him and talked as if he weren’t there. There were two girls, Marge and Annie, who liked him and wanted to joke with him. Marge was a very heavy old blonde girl with wide hips and deep breasts and a loud, boisterous laugh that always startled him, and she used to say, “I’ll bet you more men go to confession to me than to you. Sometimes you can’t stop them telling the family dirt when they get into bed.” Annie was a slender, hot-eyed, bad-tempered Mulatto. She tried many times to arouse Father Dowling and refused to accept his celibacy. One night, growing vicious, she stood in front of him and lifted herdark breast out of her dress and held it out to him, jeering and teasing. “Ain’t that nice? Come on, change your luck, big boy,” she said. The blood surged into his face, he looked uneasy, but he stood up and said, “You’ll have to go, Annie. You should not have done that.”
    â€œYou liked it, you know you liked it.”
    â€œYou must never do anything like that again, do you hear?”
    â€œLeave him alone, Annie,” Midge said jealously. “Did no one ever turn you down before? You’ve been