Flannery O’Connor: The Displaced Person

14 October 2019

[The priest] sat on her porch, taking no notice of her partly mocking, partly outraged expression as she sat shaking her foot, waiting for an opportunity to drive a wedge into his talk. “For,” he was saying, as if he spoke of something that had happened yesterday in town, “when God sent his Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ Our Lord” – he slightly bowed his head – “as a Redeemer to mankind, He …”
“Father Flynn!” she said in a voice that made him jump. “I want to talk to you about something serious!”
The skin under the old man’s right eye flinched.
"as far as I’m concerned,” she said and glared at him fiercely, “Christ was just another D.P.”
He raised his hands slightly and let them drop on his knees. “Arrrrr,” he murmured as if he were considering this.
“I’m going to let that man go,” she said. “I don’t have any obligation to him. My obligation is to the people who’ve done something for their country, not to the ones who’ve just come over to take advantage of what they can get,” and she began to talk rapidly, remember all her arguments.

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