You have misunderstood. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. The Magdalene. Like a trollop in heat. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher. He kept that, but the rest. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone.
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