It's the selfish women they admire,
the women who take their own way and insist on having all they want,
not the women who love to serve them--not slavishly, but out of love.
A selfish woman they can understand; but a woman who gives up
something very precious to her they don't understand. Maurice never
understood my action in going to Africa. And you--I don't believe you
ever understood it. You must have wondered at my coming as much as he
did at my going. You were glad I came at the moment. Oh yes, you were
glad. I know that. But afterwards you must have wondered, you did
wonder. You thought it Quixotic, odd. You said to yourself, 'It was
just like Hermione. How could she do it? How could she come to me if
she really loved her husband?' And very likely my coming made you
doubt my really loving Maurice. I am almost sure it did. I don't
believe all these years you have ever understood what I felt about
him, what his death meant to me, what life meant to me afterwards. I
told--I tried to tell you in the cave--that day.
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