I told her in the letter that I realized
that I had made mistakes, but that if she still loved me with half the
strength that I loved her, then a telegram to me would make me the
happiest of men.
I wrote that yesterday, but have had no wire. Perhaps, like me, she
distrusts telegrams and prefers letters.
* * * * *
A long letter from Zoe: an accursed fetter--an abominable letter--a
damnable letter; she still refuses to marry me. I leave for Bruges
to-night on forty-eight hours' special leave.
_Kiel, 17th._
I hate Zoe, she has broken my heart.
After her preposterous letter of the 14th, I decided that in a matter
which so closely affected my happiness no stone ought to remain
unturned to ensure a satisfactory solution of the problem, so I
determined to have a personal interview. I arrived at Bruges after tea
and went at once to the flat.
I tackled her immediately on the subject of her letter, and told her
that naturally I understood that a decent interval must elapse before
we married; but, granted this fact, I told her that I failed to see
what prevented our marriage.
A most unpleasant and harrowing scene ensued, the details of which form
such painful recollections that I really cannot write them down here,
though in the passage of months I have acquired the habit of writing in
the pages of this journal with the same freedom as I would talk to that
wife whom I had hoped to possess. She maintained an obstinate silence
when I urged her to give me at least some tangible reason as to why she
would not marry me.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120