The only man I ever loved did not care for me, and I was loved
by many for whom I did not care. Well, I had my pleasures, and I suppose
I must pay for them. I do not complain of that. But I am determined not
to give way: it is unjust and cruel. I never had a chance. I was always
brought up to be admired from the first. We were rich at my home, and in
society--you understand? I made what was called a good match, and I
never cared for my husband, but amused myself with other people; and it
was splendid while it lasted: then all kinds of horrible things
happened--scenes, explanations, a lawsuit--it makes me shudder to
remember it all; and then I was ill, I suppose, and suddenly it was all
over, and I was alone, with a feeling that I must try to take up with
all kinds of tiresome things--all the things that bored me most. But now
it may be going to be better; you can tell me where I can find people,
perhaps? I am not quite unpresentable, even here? No, I can see that in
your face. Well, take me somewhere, show me something, find something
for me to do in this deadly place. I seem to have got into a perpetual
sunset, and I am so sick of it all.
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