mrsronweasley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mrsronweasley) wrote2002-08-28 05:07 am
mrsronweasley) wrote2002-08-28 05:07 am
p.391
Dublin, 1916.
"Are you really so lunatic," she inquired, once the maid had left them, "that you were about to give Oscar Wilde's name to the parish curate?"
"So you heard our little parlance?"
"I'm sure you think yourself most ingenious."
"Well," said MacMurrough, "and was he not an Irishman? And did his speech not bring the gallery to its feet?"
"You refer to the eulogium on illicit love."
"The love that dare not speak its name."
"Its name," she said, "is buggery. As any soul in the three kingdoms might have told him."
MacMurrough turned from the window and he looked with smiling admiration on his aunt. "Do you know, at home we couldn't say Stomach to my mother without the vapors coming on. And here we are, discussing Wilde and buggery. You are a breath of air, Aunt Eva."
...
"Are you really so lunatic," she inquired, once the maid had left them, "that you were about to give Oscar Wilde's name to the parish curate?"
"So you heard our little parlance?"
"I'm sure you think yourself most ingenious."
"Well," said MacMurrough, "and was he not an Irishman? And did his speech not bring the gallery to its feet?"
"You refer to the eulogium on illicit love."
"The love that dare not speak its name."
"Its name," she said, "is buggery. As any soul in the three kingdoms might have told him."
MacMurrough turned from the window and he looked with smiling admiration on his aunt. "Do you know, at home we couldn't say Stomach to my mother without the vapors coming on. And here we are, discussing Wilde and buggery. You are a breath of air, Aunt Eva."
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