"You have no more need of your chaperon," she laughed, a tear glinting
in her eye....
* * * * *
So now I was left utterly alone....
And a hellish winter descended upon the coast ... bitter, blowing,
frosty winds that ate into the very bone and made a fellow curse God as
he leaned obliquely against them.
I learned how little a summer cottage was worth--in winter.
Mrs. Rond lent me a huge-bellied stove, the fireplace no longer proving
of comfort.
But though I kept the stove so hot that it glowed red, I still had to
hug it close, my overcoat on, and a pair of huge, woollen socks that I'd
bought at the general store down in West Grove.
But, despite the intense cold, I worked and worked ... my play, _Judas_
was nearing completion ... its publication would mean the beginning of
my life as a man of letters, my "coming out" in the literary world.
I ate my food from open cans, not taking the trouble to cook.
At night (I had pulled my bed out close to the stove) I heaped all the
blankets in the house over me, and still shivered ... I lived on the
constant stimulus of huge draughts of coffee....
"Only a little while longer ... only a few days more ... and the play
will then be finished ... and it will be published. And it will be
produced.
"Then _the woman_, my first and only woman, she will be with me again
forever .
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