Explore "The Judgment of Eve" by May Sinclair on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No fowler spreads his snares in sight of those innocent birds that perch / on the tree of life in paradise. As Arthur's soul (it was a vain soul) / preened its wings before her, Aggie never inquired whether the brilliance / of its plumage was its own, or merely common to all feathered things in / the pairing season. Young Arthur's soul was like a lark, singing in heaven / its delirious nuptial hymn. Aggie sat snug in her nest and marvelled at / her mate, at the mounting of his wings, the splendid and untiring ardors / of his song. Nor was she alarmed at his remarkable disappearance into the / empyrean. Lost to sight he might be, but she could count on his swift, / inevitable descent into the nest.
The nest itself was the most wonderful nest a bird ever sat in. The two / were so enthusiastic over everything that they delighted even in that / dreadful, creaking, yellow villa. Its very vices entertained them. When it / creaked they sat still and looked at each other, waiting for it to do it / again. No other house ever possessed such ungovernable and mysterious / spontaneities of sound. It was sometimes, they said, as if the villa were / alive. And when all the wood-work shrank, and the winter winds streamed / through their sitting-room, Aggie said nothing but put sand-bags in the / window and covered them with art serge.