So my breaking with her had not changed one of her habits. It is for such reasons as this that certain people say to you: Don’t have anything more to do with the woman; she cares nothing about you.
“Well, I am very glad to find that Marguerite does not put herself out for me,” I said with a forced smile.
“She has very good reason not to. You have done what you were bound to do. You have been more reasonable than she, for she was really in love with you; she did nothing but talk of you. I don’t know what she would not have been capable of doing.”
“Why hasn’t she answered me, if she was in love with me?”
“Because she realizes she was mistaken in letting herself love you. Women sometimes allow you to be unfaithful to their love; they never allow you to wound their self-esteem; and one always wounds the self-esteem of a woman when, two days after one has become her lover, one leaves her, no matter for what reason. I know Marguerite; she would die sooner than reply.”
“What can I do, then?”
“Nothing. She will forget you, you will forget her, and neither will have any reproach to make against the other.”
“But if I write and ask her forgiveness?”
“Don’t do that, for she would forgive you.”
I could have flung my arms round Prudence’s neck.