She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us. At other times he seemed to have regained the normal completely. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. You’re the only person I’ve really given good, straight, unselfish thought to. “Soul to soul. 123 It didn’t take long.
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