“A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. I know how bad it feels. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. “You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. When the doctor came in—he had just finished his breakfast—O'Higgins rose and presented his card. " "We'll see that," replied Jonathan, dealing him another and more violent blow. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing.
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