The miller’s wife lifts her skirt hem to her knees and pounds
up the stairs. She throws open the bedroom door and the sour smell of
yesterday’s drink hits her as her husband shifts and moans in the big bed. He
groans louder and pulls the covers over his head as she unhooks the shutter and
pushes it back so that a shaft of bright midday sunshine falls over him.
She perches gently beside the hump under the covers and lays
a hand on him. She can hardly contain her excitement, but if this great smelly
lump of a husband of hers has achieved what she thinks he’s achieved, it’s only
reasonable to be gentle with him.
