Susan is not in the house.
Georgette says she went out as soon as she came downstairs. She thinks Susan has only gone for a breath of sea air before dinner.
It is outrageous, it is unendurable, it is wicked, it is cruel. They are meeting now.
What note or what message did Susan leave this morning at the hotel? Not mine! I am a fool, a simpleton, I have less sense than a little child.
I can guess the place. It will be on the beach between here and the beck. They are meeting now. He is holding her in his arms. She will be like potter's clay in his hands. His ardent masterfulness will flick aside her doubts and fears like grains of sand. Her wits will fly away from her like chaff before the wind. There will be no Susan there save a girlish form for him to hold, a burning face for him to kiss, and a childish voice to tell him about me and my letters. And to-morrow----
Unendurable is the word. Endure it I will not. I refuse to be flouted, and disobeyed, and made a fool of, and shamed.
Susan is my maid. I don't allow followers, whoever they may be. Or, rather, I allow them in honest daylight, and at times appointed. Not on the sly. Not in the dark.
I am going out.
Some time or other.
I am glad I did not burn this book. It shall stand as my golden legend.