It is just possible—.
And as it is, will that same instinct which is in the subconscious mind of all women—and men too for the matter of that—which makes them want to fight to retain or retake what was theirs, influence her now unconsciously to feel some, even contemptuous, interest in me? This also is possible—.
If only fate brings her to me again—. That is where one is done—when absence cuts threads.
To-morrow it will be Monday—a whole week since I received her telegram.
I shall go up to Paris in the morning if I hear nothing and go myself to the Hotel de Courville to try and obtain a trace of her—if that is impossible I will write to the Duchesse.—
Reservoirs—Night:
As I wrote the last words—a note was brought to me by Burton—someone had left at the Hotel.
"Dear Sir Nicholas—(it ran)
I am very sorry I have been unable to come out to
do my work—but my brother died last Tuesday, and
I have been extremely occupied—I will be at Versailles
at eleven on Thursday as usual.
Yours truly,
A. Sharp."
————
Her firm writing, more like a man's than a woman's looked a little shaky at the end—Was she crying perhaps when she wrote the letter—the poor little girl—What will the death mean to her eventually? Will the necessity to work be lessened?