"
"As for loving me, you must not talk like that. Under the
circumstances, it's indelicate."
"Oh!" he had said, and looked at her quickly. "I can love you, but
it's indelicate to tell you about it!"
"I am married, Rodney."
"Good God, do you think I ever forget it?"
There was a real change in their relationship, but neither of them
understood it. The change was that Rodney was no longer playing.
Little by little he had dropped his artistic posing for her benefit,
his cynical cleverness, his adroit simulation of passion. He no
longer dramatized himself, because rather often he forgot himself
entirely. His passion had ceased to be spurious, and it was none
the less real because he loved not a real woman, but one of his
own artistic creation.
He saw in Natalie a misunderstood and suffering woman, bearing the
burdens he knew of with dignity and a certain beauty. And behind
her slightly theatrical silences he guessed at other griefs, nobly
borne and only gently intimated.
Pages:
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590