Whatever our shapes and features, we were snares and enticements despite ourselves, we were the innocent and blameless causes that through our very nature could make men drunk with lust, so that they’d stagger and lurch and topple over the verge – The verge of what? we wondered. Was it like a cliff? – and go plunging down in flames, like snowballs made of burning sulphur hurled by the angry hand of God.