I’ve been reading, for the first time, the book Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis. It’s  the myth of Cupid and Psyche, re-told in Lewis’ inimitable fashion. One of the things that means is that profound, or at least humorous, insights into human nature are thrown into the narrative free of charge.
 In the story, a young woman is mentored by an old Greek philosopher she calls ‘the Fox’. She is desperately trying to get his insight into a terrible difficulty when the following passage occurs:
“Daughter,†said the Fox suddenly (I think no woman, at least no woman who loved you would have done it). “Sleep comes early to old men. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Let me go. Perhaps we shall see more clearly in the morning.â€
 What could I do but send him away? This is where men, even the trustiest, fail us. Their heart is never so wholly given to any matter but that some trifle of a meal, or a drink, or a sleep, or a joke may come in between them and it, and then (even if you ar a queen) you’ll get no more good out of them till they’ve had their way.
Needless to say, I saw myself in this observation. Gail saw me too! How about you?
