If you want, we'll
give up the afternoons. I'll come here, I'll be your model, I'll sit for
you by the hour--only don't shut the door on me!'
"She began to cry. I took her in my arms, said everything that she
wished me to say, heedlessly, brutally, not caring what I said.
"That night I ran off, resolved to end it all--to save what I longed
for. I remained five hours trudging in the night--pulled back and forth.
I remembered my children. I came back,--told a lie. The next day I shut
the door of the studio not on her, but on myself.
"For months I did nothing. I was miserable. She saw it at last, and said
to me:
"'You ought to work. You aren't happy doing nothing. I've arranged
something for you.'
"I raised my head in amazement, as she continued,
clapping her hands with delight:
"'I've talked it all over with papa. You'll go into his office. You'll
do big things. He's quite enthusiastic, and I promised for you.'
"I went. I became interested. I stayed. Now I am like any other man,
domesticated, conservative, living my life, and she has not the
slightest idea of what she has killed.
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