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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Cathedral"

She saw,
more quickly than any one else, how much--how much we were going to mean
to one another. Speak the truth. You know that is the best."
"She didn't understand," Morris answered slowly. "She's stupid in some
things."
"So I've been the cause of your quarrelling, of your losing the only
friend you had in your life?"
"No, not of my losing it. I haven't lost her. Our relationship has
shifted, that's all."
"No. No. I know it is so. I've taken away the only person near you."
And suddenly turning from him to the back of the sofa, hiding her face in
her hands, she broke into passionate crying.
He stood for a moment, taut, controlled, as though he was fighting his
last little desperate battle. Then he was beaten. He knelt down on the
floor beside the sofa. He touched her hair, then her cheek. She made a
little movement towards him. He put his arms around her.
"Don't cry. Don't cry. I can't bear that. You mustn't say that you've
taken anything from me. It isn't true. You've given me everything...
everything. Why should we struggle any longer? Why shouldn't we take what
has been given to us? Your husband doesn't care.


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