Chapter 17 seventeen

For more than a year after that, whenever Rosie and I went out together, on the way home she would come to my room for a while, sometimes for an hour, sometimes until the dawn warning It's time for our maid to start scrubbing the front steps.I remember those warm sunny mornings when the stale London air was clean and pleasant, our footsteps sounded loud in the empty streets, and I also remember the cold and rainy days of winter when we huddled together under an umbrella Walking in a hurry on the street, although they didn't speak to each other, they were very happy in their hearts.The policeman on duty would often stare at us when we passed him, sometimes with a trace of suspicion in his eyes, and sometimes with a look of understanding.Occasionally, we'd see a homeless guy sleeping huddled under a porch, and Rosie would give me a friendly little squeeze on my arm, and I (mostly for show, because I wanted to give Rosie to make a good impression on the West (I had very few shillings in my pocket) at once put a silver coin on a disfigured knee or in the bony palm of a bony hand.Rosie filled my heart with joy during those days.I like her very much.She is easy-going and easy-going.Her peaceful disposition infected all who came in contact with her; simply being with her you shared in her joy.

Before I became her lover, I used to wonder to myself if she was someone else's mistress, such as Ford, Harry.Retford, and Hillier.I asked her about it afterwards, and she kissed me and said: Don't be silly.I like them a lot, you know that.I like hanging out with them and nothing else. I wanted to ask her if she had ever been George W.Kemp's mistress, but I can't tell.Although I never saw her lose her temper, I thought she did, and I had a vague feeling that this question might make her angry.I didn't want her to have the opportunity to say some very hurtful things that I couldn't forgive her for.I was very young then, just twenty-one or twenty; in my eyes, Quentin.Ford and the others were old; I thought there was nothing unusual about them seeing Rosie only as friends.When I think that I am her lover, I can't help but feel a little giddy with excitement.When I watched her chatting and laughing with all the guests at the Saturday afternoon tea party, I always looked very happy.I would think of the nights I spent with her, and I couldn't help laughing at people who didn't know anything about this huge secret of mine.But sometimes, I feel like Lionel.Hillier looked at me teasingly, as if he appreciated finding a great laughing stock in me.I wondered uneasily if Rosie had told him about our affair.I don't know if there's something in my behavior that's giving away.I told Rosie I was worried that Hillier might have doubts about our relationship.She looked at me with those blue eyes that seemed ready to smile at any moment.

Don't worry, she said, he's full of dirty thoughts. Me and Quentin.Ford's relationship has never been very close.He saw me as a stupid, unimportant young man (as I was, of course), and though he was always polite, he never took me seriously.I think he was colder to me then than before, maybe it's just my own imagination.One day, Harry.Retford unexpectedly invited me to dine and theater.I told Rossi about his invitation. Oh, of course you have to go.He will make your day very happy.Harry, he always makes me laugh. So I was invited to have dinner with Harry.He seemed very affable; I was impressed by his remarks on actors and actresses.He talked humorously, and there was always a sarcasm in his words; he didn't like Quentin.Ford, so when it comes to Ford, it always seems very funny.I tried to get him to talk about Rosie, but he had nothing to say.He's like a fluffy playboy.He let me know with his lewd eyes and giggling hints that he was an old hand at picking up girls.I couldn't help wondering if he paid me to dinner because he knew I was Rosie's lover and he liked me.But if even he knew about my relationship with Rosie, then of course everyone else knew too.I was indeed quite proud of myself, and I felt superior to these people around me, but I hope I didn't show it on my face.

Then in winter, towards the end of January, there was a new guest on Lympas Road.He was a Dutch Jew named Jack.Kepper, a diamond dealer in Amsterdam, was in London for a few weeks on business.I don't know how he came to know the Driffields, or whether it was out of respect for the writer that he visited, but it is safe to say that Driffield was not what prompted his visit again.He was a tall, stocky, dark, bald man with a large hooked nose, about fifty years of age, but a strong-looking, sensual, decisive, jovial man.He made no secret of his admiration for Rosie.Apparently he was rich as he sent Rosie a bouquet of roses every day.She blamed him for spending so much money, but she was very proud of it.I just can't stand this man.He is thick-skinned and pushy.I hated the way he spoke fluently in accurate foreign accent English, the nasty compliments he gave to Rosie, and the way he seemed warm and friendly to Rosie's friends.I found Quentin.Ford disliked the man as much as I did; the two of us almost grew close to each other for it.

Luckily he didn't stay here very long.Quentin.Ford pursed his lips and raised his black eyebrows as he spoke; his gray hair and long sallow face gave him a particularly gentlemanly look.Women are all alike; they just like rough people. He was a very vulgar person.I said rather dissatisfied. That's what's so cute about him.Quentin.Ford said. For the next two or three weeks I hardly saw Rosie.Jack.Capper took her out every night, from one posh restaurant to another, from one play to another.I was annoyed and felt wronged. He doesn't know anybody in London, said Rosie, and she wanted to appease me, and he wanted to see as much as he could while he was here.It wouldn't be a good idea to let him wander around alone all the time.He's here for another two weeks and then he's gone.

I don't understand why she would make such a self-sacrifice. But don't you think he's annoying?I said. No, I think he's funny and always makes me laugh. Can't you see that he's completely obsessed with you? Oh, he's happy to do it, and it doesn't do me any harm. He was old and fat and nasty.I got goosebumps looking at him. I don't think he's that obnoxious.Rossi said. You really shouldn't have anything to do with him.I emphasized, I mean, he was such a nasty brute. Rossi scratched her head.It was an unflattering habit of hers. It's interesting how different foreigners are from the British.she says.

Thank goodness, Jack.Kepper finally went back to Amsterdam.Rosie promised to go out to dinner with me the day after he was gone.In order to have a good meal, we agreed to go to Soho for dinner.She came for me in a carriage, and we went together. Is your nasty old man gone?I asked. gone.she said with a smile. I put my arms around her waist. (I have already said elsewhere that the circumstances of a carriage are far more convenient than those of a taxi to-day for such an activity so pleasant, and indeed almost necessary, in human intercourse, that I shall have to refrain here from referring to it. Elaborate.) I wrap my arms around her waist and start kissing her.Her lips are like spring flowers.We arrived at the hotel.First I hung my hat and coat (I was wearing a very long, tight-waisted coat with a velvet collar and cuffs, a very pretty style) on a peg, and I asked Rosie to put her shawl Give me.

I'll just wear it.she says. You will be unbearably hot.You will also catch a cold when you go out after eating a good meal. It doesn't matter.I'm wearing this shawl for the first time today.Do you think it looks good or not?Oh, and the muff matches the shawl. I took a look at her shawl, it was leather.I didn't know it was mink. It looks expensive.How did you get it? Jack.Capper gave it to me.Before he left yesterday, we went shopping together.She stroked the smooth fur of the shawl; she was as happy as a child being given a toy.How much do you think this dress cost? I have no idea.

Two hundred and sixty pounds.do you know?I've never bought anything so expensive in my life.I told him it was too expensive, but he refused to listen and insisted on buying it for me. Rosie giggled with delight, and her eyes sparkled.But I felt my face harden and a chill run down my spine. Wouldn't it be strange for Capper to buy you such an expensive fur shawl?I said, trying to sound as natural as I could. Rosie's eyes flickered mischievously. You know what kind of guy Ted is, he doesn't pay attention to anything.If he asks, I'll tell him I bought it at a pawn shop for twenty pounds.He won't believe it.She rubbed her face against her collar.How soft!Everyone can see that the price of this shawl is very expensive.

I suppressed the distress in my heart, and tried to talk about this and that with Rosie so as not to show it.Rosie didn't pay much attention to what I said.All she could think about was her new shawl, and almost every minute she glanced at the muff she was trying to keep on her lap.Then there was something lazy, sensual, and content in her caressing gaze.I was annoyed and thought she was stupid and tacky. You are like a cat that has swallowed a canary.I couldn't help saying angrily. She just giggled. I do feel that way. Two hundred and sixty pounds is a lot of money in my eyes.I don't see how a man could spend so much on a shawl, when I was living on fourteen pounds a month and doing well.In case any reader can't figure it out right away, I may add that this equals £168 a year.I don't believe anyone would buy such an expensive gift out of simple friendship; doesn't that just say Jack.Was Capper going to pay her now that he had slept with Rosie every night when he was in London?How could she accept it?Couldn't she see what an insult it was to herself?Couldn't she see how vulgar it was for Capper to give her such an expensive gift?But apparently she did not feel this way, for she said to me:

He's such a nice guy, isn't he?But the Jews are very generous. I think he has the money to afford it.I said. Yes, he is rich.He said he wanted to give me something before going back and asked me what I wanted.So I said a shawl and a muff would do, but I had no idea he would buy such an expensive one.When we went into the shop, I asked them to show me the kraft shawls, but he said, no, mink, and the best they can buy.Then as soon as we saw it, he made up his mind to buy it for me. I thought of her fair body, her milky skin, in the arms of that old, fat, rude man, with his flabby, fat lips kissing hers.At this time, I suddenly understood that the suspicions I didn't want to believe in the past were all true.I see every time she talks to Quentin.Ford, Harry.Retford and Lionel.Hillier sleeps with them when they go out to dinner, just like me.I couldn't speak; I knew that if I did I would say insulting words to her.I think what I felt was not jealousy, but humiliation.I feel like I've been literally fooled by her.I tried my best not to say anything sharp or sarcastic. After dinner we went to the theater to watch a play.But I couldn't hear a word, only felt the smooth fur of the ermine shawl against my arm, and saw her fingers constantly stroking the muff.I could bear the thought of the others, but I couldn't bear Jack.kepper.How could she do such a thing with him?Poverty is truly detestable.I wish I had enough money in my hands to tell her I'd buy her a better one if she returned the damn shawl to the guy.Finally she noticed my silence. You don't talk much tonight. Yeah? Are you uncomfortable? I am fine. She squinted at me, I didn't look at her, but I knew her eyes had that mischievous, childlike smile I knew so well.She didn't say anything more.It happened to be raining after the play, and we called a cab, and I told the driver her address in Lympas Road, and she did not speak all the way, until in Victoria Street she spoke: Do you want me to accompany you back to your place? as you like. She pushed up the little window in the hood and gave the driver my address.She took my hand and held it in hers, but I still didn't respond.I looked straight out of the window, angry and serious.When we reached Place Vincent, I helped her out of the car and led her into the house without a word.I take off my hat and coat.She dropped the shawl and muff on the sofa. Why are you always sullen and unhappy?She came up to me and asked me. I am not unhappy.I looked elsewhere and replied. She took my face in her hands. Why are you so stupid?Why because of Jack.Annoyed that Capper sent me a fur shawl?You can't afford one of these for me, can you? Of course I can't afford it. Ted couldn't afford it either.How can you expect me to refuse a fur shawl worth two hundred and sixty pounds?I've wanted a shawl like this all my life, and the money means nothing to Jack. You don't expect me to believe that he's only giving you this fur shawl out of friendship. Maybe it will.In any case, he had gone back to Amsterdam.Who knows when he will come back again? He's not alone either. At this moment I looked at Rosie, her eyes were full of anger, grievance and resentment; she smiled at me, and I wish I could describe the tenderness and tenderness in her charming smile; her voice Extremely soft. Oh dear, why do you bother yourself about anyone else?What good does that do you?Didn't I make your day very pleasant?Aren't you happy with me? very happy. That's good.It's silly to fuss and get jealous over little things.Why not be happy with what you can get?Hey, have fun when you get the chance.Within a hundred years we'll all be dead.What else is there to care about then?Let's have fun while we're at it. She put her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine.My anger was thrown to the sky.I think only of her beauty and her intoxicating tenderness. I am such a person, don't be too demanding.she said quietly. All right.I said.