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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Memoirs of My Dead Life"

One can't sacrifice a
man like that. What would one think of oneself? One would die of
remorse. So there was nothing to be done but for Ralph to go away. It
nearly killed me."
"I'm afraid I can give you no such love; my affection for you will
prove very tepid after such violent emotions."
"I don't want such emotions again; I could not bear them, they would
kill me; even a part would kill me. Two months after Ralph left I was
but a little shadow. I was thinner than I am now, I was worn to a
thread, I could hardly keep body and skirt together."
We laughed at Doris's little joke; and we watched it curling and going
out like a wreath of cigarette smoke.
"But did you get no happiness at all out of this great love?"
"We were happy only a very little while."
"How long?"
Doris reflected.
"We had about six weeks of what I should call real happiness, the time
while Albert was away. When he came back the misery and remorse began
again. I had to see him--not Albert, the other--every day; and Albert
began to notice that I was different. We used to go out together, we
three, and at last the sham became too great and Albert said he could
not stand it any longer. 'I prefer you should go out with him alone,
and if it be for your happiness I'll give you up.


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