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- Джон Фоулз
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He
said
he
used
to
imagine
us
lying
in
bed
together
.
Just
lying
.
Nothing
else
.
I
offered
to
do
that
.
But
he
didn
’
t
want
to
.
Deep
down
in
him
,
side
by
side
with
the
beastliness
,
the
sourness
,
there
is
a
tremendous
innocence
.
It
rules
him
.
He
must
protect
it
.
He
said
he
loved
me
,
even
so
.
I
said
,
what
you
love
is
your
own
love
.
It
’
s
not
love
,
it
’
s
selfishness
.
It
’
s
not
me
you
think
of
,
but
what
you
feel
about
me
.
I
don
’
t
know
what
it
is
,
he
said
.
And
then
I
made
a
mistake
,
I
felt
it
had
all
been
a
sacrifice
in
vain
,
I
felt
I
had
to
make
him
appreciate
what
I
’
d
done
,
that
he
ought
to
let
me
go
—
so
I
tried
to
tell
him
.
And
his
true
self
came
out
.
He
got
beastly
.
Wouldn
’
t
answer
me
.
We
were
further
apart
than
ever
.
I
said
I
pitied
him
and
he
flew
at
me
.
It
was
terrible
.
It
made
me
cry
.
The
terrible
coldness
,
the
inhumanity
of
it
.
Being
his
prisoner
.
Having
to
stay
.
Still
.
And
realizing
at
last
that
this
is
what
he
is
.
