"Isn't it strange? The day we first met we
little thought that we would come to know each other so well; and
you have known her always, travelled all over Europe with her. How I
have loved that woman, Merat! And here you are together, come from
Park Lane to this poor little flat in Bayswater. It is wonderful,
Merat, after all these years, to be sitting here, talking together
about her whom we both love, you have been very good to her, and have
looked after her well; I shall never forget it to you."
"I have done my best, Sir Owen; and you know mademoiselle is one of
those whom one cannot help liking."
"But living in this flat with her, Merat, you must feel lonely. Do
you never wish for your own country?"
"But I am with mademoiselle, Sir Owen; and if I were to leave her, no
one else could look after her--at least, not as I can. You see, we
know each other so well, and everything belonging to her interests
me. Perhaps you would like to see her, Sir Owen?"
"I'd like to see her, but what good would it do me or her? I'll see
her in the evening, when I can speak to her. To see her lying there
unconscious, Merat--no, it would only put thoughts of death into my
mind; and she will have to die, though she didn't die last night,
just as we all shall have to die--you and I, in a few years we shall
be dead.
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