He knocked, said through the door, ‘Don’t want to disturb you, I’m going for a little walk.’ Without knowing I was going to do this, I went to the door, opened it — he had already started off down the stairs, and asked: ‘Are you going to see Jane Bond?’ He stiffened, then slowly turned and faced me: ‘No, I’m going for a walk.’

I didn’t say anything, because I was thinking it was not possible he should lie, when I asked him directly. I should have asked: ‘Did you see Jane Bond last night?’ I realize now I didn’t because I was afraid he would say no.

I made some bright and unimportant remark, and turned away, shutting the door. I couldn’t think or even move. I was ill. I kept saying to myself: He’s got to go, he’s got to leave here. But I knew I couldn’t ask him to go, so I kept saying to myself: Then you must try to detach yourself.

When he came back, I knew I’d been waiting for his step for hours. It was nearly dark by then. He called a loud overfriendly greeting to me and went straight into the bathroom. (*12) I sat there thinking: It’s simply not possible that this man should come straight back from Jane Bond and then go and wash off sex, knowing that I must know what he was doing. It’s not possible. And yet I knew it was possible. I sat screwing myself up to say: Saul, have you been sleeping with Jane Bond?

When he came in I said it. He gave his loud, crude laugh, and said: ‘No, I haven’t.’ Then he looked at me closely and came over and put his arms around me. He did it so simply and warmly that I immediately succumbed. He said, very friendly: ‘Now Anna, you’re much too sensitive about everything. Take things easy.’ He caressed me a little and then said: ‘I think you ought to try and understand something — we’re very different people. And another thing, the way you were living here before I came wasn’t good for you. It’s all right, I’m here.’ With this he laid me down on the bed and began soothing me, as if I were ill. And in fact I was. My mind was churning and my stomach churned. I couldn’t think, because the man who was being so gentle was the same man who made me ill. Later he said: ‘And now make me supper, it’ll be good for you. God help you, but you’re a real domestic woman, you ought to be married to a nice settled husband somewhere.’ Then, sullen, (*13) ‘God help me, I always seem to pick them.’ I made him supper.

This morning, early, the telephone rang. I answered it and it was Jane Bond. I woke Saul, told him, left the room and went to the bathroom, where I made a lot of noise, running water, etc. When I came back he was back in bed, curled up, half-asleep. I was expecting him to tell me what Jane had said or wanted, but he didn’t mention the telephone call. I was angry again. Yet the whole of last night was warm and affectionate, he had turned to me like a lover in his sleep, kissing and touching me, and even using my name, so it was meant for me. I didn’t know what to feel.