It was funny, I think, that I said, ‘Forgive me.’ I didn’t know then why I said it—I just heard myself saying it.
Walter came up to me and kissed me. He did it awkwardly—very stiffly, as if he did not know how—and I thought how Hugo did not kiss me on the night of Guy’s party, at Yearsly by the Jasmine Gate. And I knew as he was kissing me that I had made a mistake.
I felt very cold, and I shivered—perhaps because I had shivered with Hugo at the Jasmine Gate. But that had been different, quite.
Walter said:
‘Don’t be afraid, my precious. I will try to be what you want.’
And I thought:
‘Does he understand after all? How much does he understand?’
XXII
I went the next day to tell Mollie. It was a Saturday, I remember, and it had rained; all the streets were wet.
Walter had stayed with me all the evening before, and I asked him not to come the next day. I felt that I must have a day in peace, without him, or anyone.