But after a time that paroxysm passed, and I rose
up sullen and resentful, and resumed my place at the wheel, steering
back for England: for a fixed resolve was in my breast, and I said: 'Oh
no, no more. If I could bear it, I would, I would ... but if it is
impossible, how can I? To-morrow night as the sun sets--without fail--so
help me God--I will kill myself.'
* * * * *
So it is finished, my good God.
On the early morning of the next day, the 9th, I having come back to
Portsmouth about eleven the previous night, when I bid her 'Good
morning' through the telephone, she said 'Good morning,' and not another
word. I said:
'I got my hookah-bowl broken last night, and shall be trying to mend it
to-day.'
No answer.
'Are you there?' said I.
'Yes,' says she.
'Then why don't you answer?' said I.
'Where were you all yesterday?' says she.
'I went for a little cruise in the basin,' said I.
Silence for three minutes: then she says:
'What is the matter?'
'Matter?' said I, 'nothing!'
'_Tell me!_' she says--with such an intensity and rage, as to make me
shudder.
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