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I
do
n't
care
for
you
any
more
.
If
you
want
to
put
it
another
way
--
I
'm
tired
of
you
.
I
have
been
for
a
long
while
.
That
's
why
I
've
run
with
other
women
.
If
I
had
n't
been
tired
of
you
I
would
n't
have
done
it
.
What
's
more
,
I
'm
in
love
with
somebody
else
--
Berenice
Fleming
,
and
I
expect
to
stay
in
love
.
I
wish
I
were
free
so
I
could
rearrange
my
life
on
a
different
basis
and
find
a
little
comfort
before
I
die
.
You
do
n't
really
care
for
me
any
more
.
You
ca
n't
.
I
'll
admit
I
have
treated
you
badly
;
but
if
I
had
really
loved
you
I
would
n't
have
done
it
,
would
I
?
It
is
n't
my
fault
that
love
died
in
me
,
is
it
?
It
is
n't
your
fault
.
I
'm
not
blaming
you
.
Love
is
n't
a
bunch
of
coals
that
can
be
blown
by
an
artificial
bellows
into
a
flame
at
any
time
.
It
's
out
,
and
that
's
an
end
of
it
.
Since
I
do
n't
love
you
and
ca
n't
,
why
should
you
want
me
to
stay
near
you
?
Why
should
n't
you
let
me
go
and
give
me
a
divorce
?
You
'll
be
just
as
happy
or
unhappy
away
from
me
as
with
me
.
Why
not
?
I
want
to
be
free
again
.
I
'm
miserable
here
,
and
have
been
for
a
long
time
.
I
'll
make
any
arrangement
that
seems
fair
and
right
to
you
.
I
'll
give
you
this
house
--
these
pictures
,
though
I
really
do
n't
see
what
you
'd
want
with
them
.
"
(
Cowperwood
had
no
intention
of
giving
up
the
gallery
if
he
could
help
it
.
)
"
I
'll
settle
on
you
for
life
any
income
you
desire
,
or
I
'll
give
you
a
fixed
sum
outright
.
I
want
to
be
free
,
and
I
want
you
to
let
me
be
.
Now
why
wo
n't
you
be
sensible
and
let
me
do
this
?
"
During
this
harangue
Cowperwood
had
first
sat
and
then
stood
.
At
the
statement
that
his
love
was
really
dead
--
the
first
time
he
had
ever
baldly
and
squarely
announced
it
--
Aileen
had
paled
a
little
and
put
her
hand
to
her
forehead
over
her
eyes
.
It
was
then
he
had
arisen
.
He
was
cold
,
determined
,
a
little
revengeful
for
the
moment
.
She
realized
now
that
he
meant
this
--
that
in
his
heart
was
no
least
feeling
for
all
that
had
gone
before
--
no
sweet
memories
,
no
binding
thoughts
of
happy
hours
,
days
,
weeks
,
years
,
that
were
so
glittering
and
wonderful
to
her
in
retrospect
.
Great
Heavens
,
it
was
really
true
!
His
love
was
dead
;
he
had
said
it
!
But
for
the
nonce
she
could
not
believe
it
;
she
would
not
.
It
really
could
n't
be
true
.
"
Frank
,
"
she
began
,
coming
toward
him
,
the
while
he
moved
away
to
evade
her
.
Her
eyes
were
wide
,
her
hands
trembling
,
her
lips
moving
in
an
emotional
,
wavy
,
rhythmic
way
.
"
You
really
do
n't
mean
that
,
do
you
?
Love
is
n't
wholly
dead
,
is
it
?
All
the
love
you
used
to
feel
for
me
?
Oh
,
Frank
,
I
have
raged
,
I
have
hated
,
I
have
said
terrible
,
ugly
things
,
but
it
has
been
because
I
have
been
in
love
with
you
!
All
the
time
I
have
.
You
know
that
.
I
have
felt
so
bad
--
O
God
,
how
bad
I
have
felt
!
Frank
,
you
do
n't
know
it
--
but
my
pillow
has
been
wet
many
and
many
a
night
.
I
have
cried
and
cried
.
I
have
got
up
and
walked
the
floor
.
I
have
drunk
whisky
--
plain
,
raw
whisky
--
because
something
hurt
me
and
I
wanted
to
kill
the
pain
.
I
have
gone
with
other
men
,
one
after
another
--
you
know
that
--
but
,
oh
!
Frank
,
Frank
,
you
know
that
I
did
n't
want
to
,
that
I
did
n't
mean
to
!
I
have
always
despised
the
thought
of
them
afterward
.
It
was
only
because
I
was
lonely
and
because
you
would
n't
pay
any
attention
to
me
or
be
nice
to
me
.
Oh
,
how
I
have
longed
and
longed
for
just
one
loving
hour
with
you
--
one
night
,
one
day
!
There
are
women
who
could
suffer
in
silence
,
but
I
ca
n't
.
My
mind
wo
n't
let
me
alone
,
Frank
--
my
thoughts
wo
n't
.
I
ca
n't
help
thinking
how
I
used
to
run
to
you
in
Philadelphia
,
when
you
would
meet
me
on
your
way
home
,
or
when
I
used
to
come
to
you
in
Ninth
Street
or
on
Eleventh
.
Oh
,
Frank
,
I
probably
did
wrong
to
your
first
wife
.
I
see
it
now
--
how
she
must
have
suffered
!
But
I
was
just
a
silly
girl
then
,
and
I
did
n't
know
.
Do
n't
you
remember
how
I
used
to
come
to
you
in
Ninth
Street
and
how
I
saw
you
day
after
day
in
the
penitentiary
in
Philadelphia
?
You
said
then
you
would
love
me
always
and
that
you
would
never
forget
.
Ca
n't
you
love
me
any
more
--
just
a
little
?
Is
it
really
true
that
your
love
is
dead
?
Am
I
so
old
,
so
changed
?
Oh
,
Frank
,
please
do
n't
say
that
--
please
do
n't
--
please
,
please
please
!
I
beg
of
you
!
"
She
tried
to
reach
him
and
put
a
hand
on
his
arm
,
but
he
stepped
aside
.
To
him
,
as
he
looked
at
her
now
,
she
was
the
antithesis
of
anything
he
could
brook
,
let
alone
desire
artistically
or
physically
.
The
charm
was
gone
,
the
spell
broken
.
It
was
another
type
,
another
point
of
view
he
required
,
but
,
above
all
and
principally
,
youth
,
youth
--
the
spirit
,
for
instance
,
that
was
in
Berenice
Fleming
.
He
was
sorry
--
in
his
way
.
He
felt
sympathy
,
but
it
was
like
the
tinkling
of
a
far-off
sheep-bell
--
the
moaning
of
a
whistling
buoy
heard
over
the
thrash
of
night-black
waves
on
a
stormy
sea
.
"
You
do
n't
understand
how
it
is
,
Aileen
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
ca
n't
help
myself
.
My
love
is
dead
.
It
is
gone
.
I
ca
n't
recall
it
.
I
ca
n't
feel
it
.
I
wish
I
could
,
but
I
ca
n't
;
you
must
understand
that
.
Some
things
are
possible
and
some
are
not
.
"
He
looked
at
her
,
but
with
no
relenting
.
Aileen
,
for
her
part
,
saw
in
his
eyes
nothing
,
as
she
believed
,
save
cold
philosophic
logic
--
the
man
of
business
,
the
thinker
,
the
bargainer
,
the
plotter
.
At
the
thought
of
the
adamantine
character
of
his
soul
,
which
could
thus
definitely
close
its
gates
on
her
for
ever
and
ever
,
she
became
wild
,
angry
,
feverish
--
not
quite
sane
.
"
Oh
,
do
n't
say
that
!
"
she
pleaded
,
foolishly
.
"
Please
do
n't
.
Please
do
n't
say
that
.
It
might
come
back
a
little
if
--
if
--
you
would
only
believe
in
it
.
Do
n't
you
see
how
I
feel
?
Do
n't
you
see
how
it
is
?
"
