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His first glance told me all. He cast down his eyes so that he might not hurt me again. ... And I—coward that I was—I accepted without interrupting him the tender words he spoke, and even his caress....
But when our eyes met a second time we both knew that all was at an end between us.
One reads of "tears of blood." During the few hours he spent in my house I think we smiled "smiles of blood."
When we sat opposite to each other at table, we might have been sitting each side a deathbed. We only attempted to speak when Jeanne was waiting at table.
When we parted, he said:
"I feel like the worst of criminals!"
He has not committed a crime. He loved me once, now he no longer loves me. That is all.
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But after what has happened I cannot remain here. Everything will remind me of my hours of joyful waiting; of my hours of failure and abasement.