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- Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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- Стр. 144/193
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"
When
a
woman
loves
you
she
’
s
not
satisfied
until
she
possesses
your
soul
.
Because
she
’
s
weak
,
she
has
a
rage
for
domination
,
and
nothing
less
will
satisfy
her
.
She
has
a
small
mind
,
and
she
resents
the
abstract
which
she
is
unable
to
grasp
.
She
is
occupied
with
material
things
,
and
she
is
jealous
of
the
ideal
.
The
soul
of
man
wanders
through
the
uttermost
regions
of
the
universe
,
and
she
seeks
to
imprison
it
in
the
circle
of
her
account
-
book
.
Do
you
remember
my
wife
?
I
saw
Blanche
little
by
little
trying
all
her
tricks
.
With
infinite
patience
she
prepared
to
snare
me
and
bind
me
.
She
wanted
to
bring
me
down
to
her
level
;
she
cared
nothing
for
me
,
she
only
wanted
me
to
be
hers
.
She
was
willing
to
do
everything
in
the
world
for
me
except
the
one
thing
I
wanted
:
to
leave
me
alone
.
"
I
was
silent
for
a
while
.
"
What
did
you
expect
her
to
do
when
you
left
her
?
"
"
She
could
have
gone
back
to
Stroeve
,
"
he
said
irritably
.
"
He
was
ready
to
take
her
.
"
"
You
’
re
inhuman
,
"
I
answered
.
"
It
’
s
as
useless
to
talk
to
you
about
these
things
as
to
describe
colours
to
a
man
who
was
born
blind
.
"
He
stopped
in
front
of
my
chair
,
and
stood
looking
down
at
me
with
an
expression
in
which
I
read
a
contemptuous
amazement
.
"
Do
you
really
care
a
twopenny
damn
if
Blanche
Stroeve
is
alive
or
dead
?
"
I
thought
over
his
question
,
for
I
wanted
to
answer
it
truthfully
,
at
all
events
to
my
soul
.
"
It
may
be
a
lack
of
sympathy
in
myself
if
it
does
not
make
any
great
difference
to
me
that
she
is
dead
.
Life
had
a
great
deal
to
offer
her
.
I
think
it
’
s
terrible
that
she
should
have
been
deprived
of
it
in
that
cruel
way
,
and
I
am
ashamed
because
I
do
not
really
care
.
"
