But now, with the doctor's words, the rest of the
world came back to her. She remembered Paul. She was horrified to
realise that during these days she had entirely forgotten him. He,
of course could not write to her because he did not know her
address. When she saw that Martin was quietly sleeping she sat down
and wrote the following letter:
13A LYNTON STREET, KING'S CROSS, April 28th, 1912.
MY DEAR PAUL,--I have been very wrong indeed not to write to you
before this. It's only of a piece with all my other bad behaviour to
you, and it's very late now to saw that I am ashamed. I will tell
you the truth, which is that on the day I left you I had received a
letter telling me that the friend of whom I have often told you was
in England, very ill, and with no one to care for him. I had to go.
I don't know whether it was right or wrong--wrong I suppose--but I
always knew that if he ever wanted me I SHOULD go. I've always been
truthful to you about that. When I came here I found that he was in
horrible lodgings, very ill indeed, and with no one to look after
him. I HAD to stay, and now for a week he has been between life and
death.
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