As both her name and the
Papadopoulos troupe of cats were well known in the "variety" world, it
would be a simple matter to obtain engagements. She had already opened
negotiations for a short season somewhere abroad. I was not to be
anxious about her. She would have plenty of occupation.
". . . I am not sending you any address, for I don't want you to know
where I am, dear. I shan't write to you again unless I scribble things
and tear them up without posting. This is final. When a woman makes such
a break she must do it once and for all. Oh, Simon, when you kissed me
two days ago you thought you loved me; but I know what the senses are
and how they deceive people, and I had only just caught your senses
on that spring afternoon, and I made you do it, for I had been aching,
aching for months for a word of love from you, and when it came I was
ashamed. But I should have been weak and shut my eyes to everything if
Miss Faversham had not come to me like God's good angel. . . ."
At the fourth reading of the letter I stopped short at these words.
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