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Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset), 1874-1965

"Moon and Sixpence"

Give me another chance. I'll try harder still to
make you happy."
"Get up, Dirk. You're making yourself a perfect fool."
He staggered to his feet, but still he would not let her go.
"Where are you going?" he said hastily. "You don't know what
Strickland's place is like. You can't live there. It would
be awful."
"If I don't care, I don't see why you should."
"Stay a minute longer. I must speak. After all, you can't
grudge me that."
"What is the good? I've made up my mind. Nothing that you can
say will make me alter it."
He gulped, and put his hand to his heart to ease its painful beating.
"I'm not going to ask you to change your mind, but I want you
to listen to me for a minute. It's the last thing I shall
ever ask you. Don't refuse me that."
She paused, looking at him with those reflective eyes of hers,
which now were so different to him. She came back into the
studio and leaned against the table.
"Well?"
Stroeve made a great effort to collect himself.
"You must be a little reasonable. You can't live on air,
you know. Strickland hasn't got a penny."
"I know.


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