Suddenly she rose to her feet, muttered something about coming back, and
was gone.
She ran up to her room, and alone there, it seemed for a few moments as
if she must suffocate. She put the letter on her desk, where its folded
sheets instantly looked hideously familiar. She went into the bathroom,
and found herself holding her fingers under the hot-water tap, vaguely
waiting for hot water. Like a hunted creature she went through the
luxurious rooms, the mortal wound in her heart widening every instant;
finally she came back to her desk, and sat down, and read the letter
again.
"Dear Julia," wrote Jim, "I have been thinking and thinking about this
affair, and I cannot stand it. I am going away. Atkins is going to
Berlin for a three months' course under Hofner and Braun, and I am going
with him. I only made up my mind to-night, but I have thought of
something like this a long, long time. I cannot bear it any longer. I
think and think about things--that another man loved you and you loved
him--and I nearly go mad. Even when people meet me and ask how you are,
I am reminded of it; for weeks now I haven't thought of anything else;
it just seems to rise up wherever I go.
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