The Hollow

After that Summer at San Miguel.) Curious, when you came to think of it, that the very qualities that irritated him in Gerda, were the qualities he wanted so badly to find in Henrietta. What irritated him in Henrietta-(no, that was the wrong word-it was anger, not irritation, that she inspired)-what angered him there was Henrietta's unswerving rectitude where he was concerned. It was so at variance with her attitude to the world in general. He had said to her once:

"I think you are the greatest liar I know."

"Perhaps."

"You are always willing to say anything to people if only it pleases them."

"That always seems to me more important."

"More important than speaking the truth?"

"Much more."

"Then why, in God's name, can't you lie a little more to me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, John, but I can't."

"You must know so often what I want you to say-"

Come now, he mustn't start thinking of Henrietta. He'd be seeing her this very afternoon.

The thing to do now was to get on with things! Ring the bell and see this last damned woman. Another sickly creature!

One tenth genuine ailment and nine tenths hypochondria! Well, why shouldn't she enjoy ill health if she cared to pay for it? It balanced the Mrs. Crabtrees of this world. , But still he sat there motionless.

He was tired-he was so very tired. It seemed to him that he had been tired for a very long time. There was something he wanted-wanted badly.

And there shot into his mind the thought:

I want to go home.

It astonished him. Where had that thought come from? And what did it mean? Home?

He had never had a home. His parents had been Anglo-Indians, he had been brought up, bandied about from aunt to uncle, one set of holidays with each. The first permanent home he had had, he supposed, was this house in Harley Street.

Did he think of this house as home? He shook his head. He knew that he didn't.

But his medical curiosity was aroused.

What had he meant by that phrase that had flashed out suddenly in his mind? / want to go home…

There must be something-some image …

He half closed his eyes-there must be some background.

And very clearly, before his mind's eye, he saw the deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea, the palms, the cactus and the prickly pear; he smelt the hot Summer dust, and remembered the cool feeling of the water after lying on the beach in the sun. San Miguel!

He was startled-a little disturbed. He hadn't thought of San Miguel for years. He certainly didn't want to go back there. All of that belonged to a past chapter in his life.

That was twelve-fourteen-fifteen years ago. And he'd done the right thing! His judgment had been absolutely right! He'd been madly in love with Veronica but it wouldn't have done. Veronica would have swallowed him body and soul. She was the complete egoist and she had made no bones about admitting it! Veronica had grabbed most things that she wanted but she hadn't been able to grab him! He'd escaped. He had, he supposed, treated her badly from the conventional point of view. In plain words, he had jilted her! But the truth was that he intended to live his own life, and that was a thing that Veronica would not have allowed him to do.

She intended to live her life and carry John along as an extra.

She had been astonished when he had refused to come with her to Hollywood.

She had said disdainfully:

"If you really want to be a doctor you can take a degree over there, I suppose, but it's quite unnecessary. You've got enough to live on, and / shall be making heaps of money."

And he had replied vehemently:

"But I'm keen on my profession. I'm going to work with Radley."

His voice-a young, enthusiastic voice-was quite awed.

Veronica sniffed.

"That funny snuffy old man?"

"That funny snuffy old man," John had said angrily, "has done some of the most valuable research work on Pratfs disease-"

She had interrupted: Who cared for Pratt's disease? California, she said, was an enchanting climate. And it was fun to see the world. She added: "I shall hate it without you. I want you, John-I need you."

And then he had put forward the, to Veronica, amazing suggestion that she should turn down the Hollywood offer and marry him and settle down in London.

She was amused and quite firm! She was going to Hollywood, and she loved John, and John must marry her and come, too. She had had no doubts of her beauty and of her power.

He had seen that there was only one thing to be done and he had done it. He had written to her breaking off the engagement.

He had suffered a good deal, but he had had no doubts as to the wisdom of the course he had taken. He'd come back to London and started work with Radley and a year later he had married Gerda, who was as unlike Veronica in every way as it was possible to be.

The door opened and his secretary. Beryl Collier, came in.

"You've still got Mrs. Forrester to see."

He said shortly, "I know."

"I thought you might have forgotten."