I feel like a fraudulent trustee. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. ‘I am perfectly devoted to him, as well he knows. ” She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly.
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