But I don't think you
really understood at all. And he--he didn't understand my love for
him. But I suppose he didn't even want to. When I went away he simply
forgot all about me. That was it. I wasn't there, and he forgot. I
wasn't there, and another woman was there--and that was enough for
him. And I dare say--now--it is enough for most men, perhaps for every
man. And then I'd made another mistake. I was always making mistakes
when my heart led me. And I'd made a mistake in thinking that real
people get beyond looks, the outside--and that then life begins. They
don't--at least real men don't. A woman may spend her heart's blood
for a man through years, and for youthful charm and a face that is
pretty, for the mere look in a pair of eyes or the curve of a mouth,
he'll almost forget that she's alive, even when she's there before
him. He'll take the other woman's part against her instinctively,
whichever is in the right. If both women do exactly the same thing a
man will find that the pretty woman has performed a miracle and the
ugly woman made some preposterous mistake.
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