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Moon and Sixpence, a novel by W. Somerset Maugham

CHAPTER 36

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_ The next week was dreadful. Stroeve went twice a day to the
hospital to enquire after his wife, who still declined to see
him; and came away at first relieved and hopeful because he
was told that she seemed to be growing better, and then in
despair because, the complication which the doctor had feared
having ensued, recovery was impossible. The nurse was pitiful
to his distress, but she had little to say that could console
him. The poor woman lay quite still, refusing to speak, with
her eyes intent, as though she watched for the coming of death.
It could now be only the question of a day or two;
and when, late one evening, Stroeve came to see me I knew it was
to tell me she was dead. He was absolutely exhausted.
His volubility had left him at last, and he sank down wearily
on my sofa. I felt that no words of condolence availed, and I
let him lie there quietly. I feared he would think it
heartless if I read, so I sat by the window, smoking a pipe,
till he felt inclined to speak.

"You've been very kind to me," he said at last. "Everyone's
been very kind."

"Nonsense," I said, a little embarrassed.

"At the hospital they told me I might wait. They gave me a
chair, and I sat outside the door. When she became
unconscious they said I might go in. Her mouth and chin were
all burnt by the acid. It was awful to see her lovely skin
all wounded. She died very peacefully, so that I didn't know
she was dead till the sister told me."

He was too tired to weep. He lay on his back limply, as
though all the strength had gone out of his limbs, and
presently I saw that he had fallen asleep. It was the first
natural sleep he had had for a week. Nature, sometimes so
cruel, is sometimes merciful. I covered him and turned down
the light. In the morning when I awoke he was still asleep.
He had not moved. His gold-rimmed spectacles were still on
his nose. _

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