Page:The Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman.djvu/213

 for nearly two hours longer. I won’t say “not speaking a word”, but I can say “not finishing a sentence.” Bewildered. . . Then she went away, and I rang for my maid. I never heard from her again. On Thursday—the Thursday—Arthur found his suit-case and kit-bag packed and labelled in the hall. “I don’t want all this,” he said, “for one night.”. . And he was back again in three days. I happen to know that he went alone and returned alone—and was alone in Paris. . . I was talking about the diary, was I not? It is not cheerful reading, and much of it is dull. This entry in question: “Arthur returned from France tired and depressed, but very glad to be home again.. .” It does not mean much. ..

To any one else. . . I am not crying! I am simply worn-out. . . ! Oh, my dear, I am too old for this kind of thing, apart from the long agony of humiliation. Arthur must send me right away for a complete change. He can afford it now. ..