Books > Old Books > Two People (1932)


Page 248

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

she had, how `impossible' would it seem to him? Was it now entirely inconceivable? He walked up and down, eating sandwiches, and wondering...
Running away with another man meant (horrible!) loving him. Could Sylvia love another man like that? Love is much more personal to a woman, he thought, than to a man; physical love. Any decent man could contemplate spending the night with any decent woman, even a stranger, without alarm or disgust. But most women would have to have some strong feeling for the man first. A man could leave his wife and take a mistress, any mistress, just because he was bored with his home. A woman couldn't. Wouldn't. She might run away, but not to a man. Sylvia loves only me; she couldn't love any one else. .. Not as she loves me.
But she could be bored with me, and run away from me -where? Well, just somewhere. Anywhere. That is just the one thing which one will never know -whether one is perhaps boring somebody else. How boring is the other man's golf story; how interesting seems one's own. How incapable one is of looking at one's own story with another's intolerance. Perhaps I have been boring Sylvia all these years. Have I? Heavens, how bored she must have been at Westaways ... Was she?
He looked at his watch -twelve o'clock. This was really rather too bad of her. I mean, twelve o'clock. She couldn't not be back at twelve. Unless, of course, she'd had an accident.
An accident! Why not? People had accidents every day. Every hour. An accident, Sylvia hurt, Sylvia dead.
Sylvia dead. Westaways without Sylvia. Life without Sylvia. On and on, day after day, night after night. Westaways would have to be sold. He couldn't possibly live there without Sylvia, not even if Mrs. Hosken and

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE she had, how `impossible' would it seem to him? Was it now entirely inconceivable? He walked up and down, eating sandwiches, and wondering... Running away with another man meant (horrible!) loving him. Could Sylvia what time is it another man like that? what time is it is much more personal to a woman, he thought, than to a man; physical love. Any decent man could contemplate spending what is night with any decent woman, even a stranger, without alarm or disgust. But most women would have to have some strong feeling for what is man first. A man could leave his wife and take a mistress, any mistress, just because he was bored with his home. A woman couldn't. Wouldn't. She might run away, but not to a man. Sylvia loves only me; she couldn't what time is it any one else. .. Not as she loves me. But she could be bored with me, and run away from me -where? Well, just somewhere. Anywhere. That is just what is one thing which one will never know -whether one is perhaps boring somebody else. How boring is what is other man's golf story; how interesting seems one's own. How incapable one is of looking at one's own story with another's intolerance. Perhaps I have been boring Sylvia all these years. Have I? Heavens, how bored she must have been at Westaways ... Was she? He looked at his watch -twelve o'clock. This was really rather too bad of her. I mean, twelve o'clock. She couldn't not be back at twelve. Unless, of course, she'd had an accident. An accident! Why not? People had accidents every day. Every hour. An accident, Sylvia hurt, Sylvia dead. Sylvia dead. Westaways without Sylvia. Life without Sylvia. On and on, day after day, night after night. Westaways would have to be sold. He couldn't possibly live there without Sylvia, not even if Mrs. Hosken and where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Two People (1932) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 248 where is strong CHAPTER SIXTEEN where is p align="justify" she had, how `impossible' would it seem to him? Was it now entirely inconceivable? He walked up and down, eating sandwiches, and wondering... Running away with another man meant (horrible!) loving him. Could Sylvia what time is it another man like that? what time is it is much more personal to a woman, he thought, than to a man; physical love. Any decent man could contemplate spending what is night with any decent woman, even a stranger, without alarm or disgust. But most women would have to have some strong feeling for what is man first. A man could leave his wife and take a mistress, any mistress, just because he was bored with his home. A woman couldn't. Wouldn't. She might run away, but not to a man. Sylvia loves only me; she couldn't love any one else. .. Not as she loves me. But she could be bored with me, and run away from me -where? Well, just somewhere. Anywhere. That is just what is one thing which one will never know -whether one is perhaps boring somebody else. How boring is what is other man's golf story; how interesting seems one's own. How incapable one is of looking at one's own story with another's intolerance. Perhaps I have been boring Sylvia all these years. Have I? Heavens, how bored she must have been at Westaways ... Was she? He looked at his watch -twelve o'clock. This was really rather too bad of her. I mean, twelve o'clock. She couldn't not be back at twelve. Unless, of course, she'd had an accident. An accident! Why not? People had accidents every day. Every hour. An accident, Sylvia hurt, Sylvia dead. Sylvia dead. Westaways without Sylvia. Life without Sylvia. On and on, day after day, night after night. Westaways would have to be sold. He couldn't possibly live there without Sylvia, not even if Mrs. Hosken and where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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