Leonora, indeed, imagined that she could manage this affair
all right. She had no thought of Maisie's being led into adultery; she
imagined that if she could take Maisie and Edward to Nauheim, Edward
would see enough of her to get tired of her pretty little chatterings,
and of the pretty little motions of her hands and feet. And she thought
she could trust Edward. For there was not any doubt of Maisie's passion
for Edward. She raved about him to Leonora as Leonora had heard girls
rave about drawing masters in schools. She was perpetually asking her
boy husband why he could not dress, ride, shoot, play polo, or even
recite sentimental poems, like their major. And young Maidan had the
greatest admiration for Edward, and he adored, was bewildered by and
entirely trusted his wife. It appeared to him that Edward was devoted
to Leonora. And Leonora imagined that when poor Maisie was cured of her
hear and Edward had seen enough of her, he would return to her. She had
the vague, passionate idea that, when Edward had exhausted a number of
other types of women he must turn to her. Why should not her type have
its turn in his heart? She imagined that, by now, she understood him
better, that she understood better his vanities and that, by making him
happier, she could arouse his love.

Florence knocked all that on the head....

PART IV

I

I HAVE, I am aware, told this story in a very rambling way so that it
may be difficult for anyone to find their path through what may be a
sort of maze. I cannot help it. I have stuck to my idea of being in a
country cottage with a silent listener, hearing between the gusts of the
wind and amidst the noises of the distant sea, the story as it comes.
And, when one discusses an affair--a long, sad affair--one goes back,
one goes forward. One remembers points that one has forgotten and one
explains them all the more minutely since one recognizes that one has
forgotten to mention them in their proper places and that one may have
given, by omitting them, a false impression. I console myself with
thinking that this is a real story and that, after all, real stories are
probably told best in the way a person telling a story would tell them.
They will then seem most real.

At any rate, I think I have brought my story up to the date of Maisie
Maidan's death. I mean that I have explained everything that went before
it from the several points of view that were necessary--from Leonora's,
from Edwa