I cannot bear lewd looks no more, John. My spirit's changed entirely. I ought to be given
Godly looks when I suffer for them as I do. Look at my leg. I'm holes all over from their damned
needles and pins. The jab your wife gave me's not healed yet, y'know. And George Jacobs comes again
and again and raps me with his stick - the same spot every night all this week. Looks at the lump I
have.
Oh John, the world's so full of hypocrites! They pray in jail, I'm told they pray in jail! And torture me in
my bed while sacred words are coming from their mouths! It will need God Himself to cleanse this
town properly. If I live, if I am not murdured, I will surely cry out others until the last hypocrite is dead!
But John, you taught me goodness, therefore you are good. It were a fire you walked me through and
all my ignorance was burned away. It were a fire, John, we lay in fire. And from that night no woman
called me wicked any more but I knew my answer. I used to weep for my sins when the wind lifted up
my skirts; and blushed for shame because some old Rebecca called me loose. And then you burned my
ignorance away. As bare as some December tree I saw them all - walking like saints to church, running
to feed the sick, and hypocrites in their hearts! And God gave me strength to call them liars and God
made men listen to me, and by God I will scrub the world clean for the love of Him! John, I will make
you such a wife when the world is white again! You will be amazed to see me every day, a light of
heaven in your house!
