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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Will Warburton"

I went crazy. Don't for a
moment think the fault was hers--don't dream of anything of the
kind. I, I alone, ass, idiot, was to blame. She must have seen what
had happened, and, in leaving her lodgings, she purposely gave a
false address, never imagining that I was capable of pursuing her
across Europe. At St. Jean de Luz I heard of her marriage--"
He stopped, breathless. The short sentences had been flung out
explosively. He was hot and red.
"Did you suspect anything of all that?" followed in a more
restrained tone. "If so, of course I understand--"
Bertha seemed to be deep iii meditation. A faint smile was on her
lips. She made no answer.
"Are you saying to yourself," Will went on vehemently, "that,
instead of being merely a foolish man, I have shown myself to be
shameless? It was foolish, no doubt, to dream that an educated girl
might marry a grocer; but when he begins his suit by telling such a
story as this--! Perhaps I needn't have told it at all. Perhaps you
had never had a suspicion of such things? All the same, it's better
so. I've had enough of lies to last me for all my life; but now that
I've told you, try to believe something else; and that is--that I
never loved Rosamund Elvan--never--never!"
Bertha seemed on the point of laughing; but she drew in her breath,
composed her features, let her eyes wander to a picture on the wall.
"Can you believe that?" Will asked, his voice quivering with
earnestness, as he bent forward to her.


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