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

"Moon and Sixpence"

Neither Strickland nor his wife spoke.
Then he recollected something else.
"Will you pack up my clothes and leave them with the concierge?
I'll come and fetch them to-morrow." He tried to smile."
Good-bye, my dear. I'm grateful for all the happiness you gave
me in the past."
He walked out and closed the door behind him. With my mind's
eye I saw Strickland throw his hat on a table, and, sitting down,
begin to smoke a cigarette.

Chapter XXIX

I kept silence for a little while, thinking of what Stroeve
had told me. I could not stomach his weakness, and he saw
my disapproval. "You know as well as I do how Strickland lived,"
he said tremulously. "I couldn't let her live in those
circumstances -- I simply couldn't."
"That's your business," I answered.
"What would have done?" he asked.
"She went with her eyes open. If she had to put up with
certain inconveniences it was her own lookout."
"Yes; but, you see, you don't love her."
"Do you love her still?"
"Oh, more than ever. Strickland isn't the man to make a woman happy.
It can't last. I want her to know that I shall never fail her.


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