CHAPTER SIX
In short, from the time I learnt about life, I've only managed to meet people who were nothing but stinkers. The pettiness of my parents, their niggardliness, egoism and what not, the horrible sensuality of my mother, all this was candid dirtiness. As for Gerty, her instincts hardly short of criminal, even if she worked for my benefit, were o the same order. It was true that I loved Gerty and that she satisfied my vices while teaching me many others, but I was beyond it all now.
How much joy have I gone through touched by the stings of misery...
And then there was my father. Wasn't he the most conniving of the lot when he played the peeking torn?
And the priest? Darkest omen of his parsonage, tier, a flinching debauched creature. What can one make of him?
That was my stamp
