She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. I don’t care if you’re not a virgin, that’s not how I really am. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. He pulsed and thrust as he released himself into her body. Heaven alone knows why. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket.
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