It seemed to him he was degraded
at the very quick, made of no account.
'You mean you don't want me?' he said.
'You are so insistent, and there is so little grace in you, so little
fineness. You are so crude. You break me--you only waste me--it is
horrible to me.'
'Horrible to you?' he repeated.
'Yes. Don't you think I might have a room to myself, now Ursula has
gone? You can say you want a dressing room.'
'You do as you like--you can leave altogether if you like,' he managed
to articulate.
'Yes, I know that,' she replied. 'So can you. You can leave me whenever
you like--without notice even.'
The great tides of darkness were swinging across his mind, he could
hardly stand upright. A terrible weariness overcame him, he felt he
must lie on the floor. Dropping off his clothes, he got into bed, and
lay like a man suddenly overcome by drunkenness, the darkness lifting
and plunging as if he were lying upon a black, giddy sea. He lay still
in this strange, horrific reeling for some time, purely unconscious.
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