CHAPTER XIX. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. ” She looked at him quizzically. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. His absence was thought by the charitable to be from grief. ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you. All the world before you, all the ologies. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. “Does Mr. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot.
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