Chapter XXXII

           

           IdidnotseeStricklandforseveralweeks.Iwasdisgustedwithhim,andifIhadhadanopportunityshouldhavebeengladtotellhimso,butIsawnoobjectinseekinghimoutforthepurpose.Iamalittleshyofanyassumptionofmoralindignation;thereisalwaysinitanelementofself-satisfactionwhichmakesitawkwardtoanyonewhohasasenseofhumour.Itrequiresaverylivelypassiontosteelmetomyownridicule.TherewasasardonicsincerityinStricklandwhichmademesensitivetoanythingthatmightsuggestapose.

           ButoneeveningwhenIwaspassingalongtheAvenuedeClichyinfrontofthecafewhichStricklandfrequentedandwhichInowavoided,Iranstraightintohim.HewasaccompaniedbyBlancheStroeve,andtheywerejustgoingtoStrickland’sfavouritecorner.

           "Wherethedevilhaveyoubeenallthistime?"saidhe."Ithoughtyoumustbeaway."

           HiscordialitywasproofthatheknewIhadnowishtospeaktohim.Hewasnotamanwithwhomitwasworthwhilewastingpoliteness.

           "No,"Isaid;"Ihaven’tbeenaway."

           "Whyhaven’tyoubeenhere?"

           "TherearemorecafesinParisthanone,atwhichtotrifleawayanidlehour."

           Blanchethenheldoutherhandandbademegood-evening.IdonotknowwhyIhadexpectedhertobesomehowchanged;sheworethesamegraydressthatsheworesooften,neatandbecoming,andherbrowwasascandid,hereyesasuntroubled,aswhenIhadbeenusedtoseeheroccupiedwithherhouseholddutiesinthestudio.

           "Comeandhaveagameofchess,"saidStrickland.

           IdonotknowwhyatthemomentIcouldthinkofnoexcuse.

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