Manchurian Books

I do not know where
she is or what she is doing. I do not know whether she is alive or dead.
It seems to me utterly grotesque that two people who have stood so close
to one another as she and I should be so separated, but so it is between
us.
Effie, too, I have parted from, though I still see her at times. Between
us there was never any intention of marriage nor intimacy of soul. She
had a sudden, fierce, hot-blooded passion for me and I for her, but
I was not her first lover nor her last. She was in another world from
Marion. She had a queer, delightful nature; I've no memory of
ever seeing her sullen or malicious. She was--indeed she was
magnificently--eupeptic. That, I think, was the central secret of her
agreeableness, and, moreover, that she was infinitely kind-hearted. I
helped her at last into an opening she coveted, and she amazed me by a
sudden display of business capacity. She has now a typewriting bureau
in Riffle's Inn, and she runs it with a brisk vigour and considerable
success, albeit a certain plumpness has overtaken her.


Pages:
333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357