Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. When she awoke, her husband held her hand as 31 Sebastianus urged her to drink weak wine. It’s just that I want to say. My arm's nearly well again. Marry me. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. She says that everyone in the house makes too much noise, my Dad snores, and that when the house is empty, the traffic noise is nearly deafening. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. If she delayed a day she would delay two days, if she delayed two days she would delay a week, and after a week things would be adjusted to submission forever. When I think of it—” “But these are things I want to tell you now!” “I made a little song of it. Too much, perhaps. We leave this room together.
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