"No, that's too emotional. It's not quite true either. I'd have to go away, of course, but one gets over everything."
"While you are thinking what to say, do you mind if I put in a word for myself?"
"No, of course not, it's only fair, Thomas."
"Well, Phuong," I said, "are you going to leave me for him? He'll marry you. I can't. You know why." Are you going away?" she asked and I thought of the editor's letter in my pocket. "No." "Never?"
"How can one promise that? He can't either. Marriages break. Often they break quicker than an affair like ours." 'Il do not want to go," she said, but the sentence was not comforting: it contained an unexpressed 'but'. Pyle said, "I think I ought to put all my cards on the table. I'm not rich. But when my father dies I'll have about fifty thousand dollars. I'm in good health-I've got a medical certiflcate only two months old, and I can let her know my blood-group."
'I don't know how to translate that. What's it for?" "Well, to make certain we can have children together." "Is that how you make love in America-figures of income and a blood-group?"
"I don't know, I've never done it before. Maybe at home my mother would talk to her mother."
"About your blood-group?"
'Don't laugh at me, Thomas. I expect I'm oldfashioned. You know I'm a bit lost in this situation."
"So am I. Don't you think we might call it off and dice for her?"
"Now you are pretending to be tough, Thomas. I know you love her in your way as much as I do." "Well, go on, Pyle."
'Tell her I don't expect her to love me right away. That will come in time, but tell her what I offer is security and respect. That doesn't sound very exciting, but perhaps it's better than passion."
"She can always get passion," I said, "with your chauffeur when you are away at the office." Pyle blushed. He got awkwardly to his feet and said,
"That's a dirty crack. I won't have her insulted. You've no right . . ." "She's not your wife yet."
"What can you offer her?" he asked with anger. "A couple of hundred dollars when you leave for England, or will you pass her on with the furniture?" "The furniture isn't mine."
"She's not either. Phuong, will you marry me?" "What about the blood-group?" I said.
"And a health certificate. You'll need hers, surely? Maybe you ought to have mine too. And her horoscope-no, that is an Indian custom." "Will you marry me?"
"Say it in French," I said. "I'm damned if I'll interpret for you any more." I got to my feet and the dog growled. It made me furious. "Tell your damned Duke to be quiet. This is my home, not his."
"Will you marry me?" he repeated. I took a step towards Phuong and the dog growled again.
I said to Phuong, "Tell him to go away and take his dog with him."
"Come away with me now," Pyle said. "Avec moi."* "No," Phuong said, "no." Suddenly all the anger in both of us vanished: it was a problem as simple as that: it could be solved with a word of two letters. I felt an enormous relief; Pyle stood there with his mouth a little open and an expression of bewilderment on his face. He said, "She said no."
"She knows that much English." I wanted to laugh now: what fools we had both made of each other. I said, "Sit down and have .another Scotch, Pyle." "I think I ought to go."
"One for the road." "Mustn't drink all your whisky," he muttered. '1 get all I want through the Legation." I moved towards table and the dog bared its teeth. Pyle said furiously,
"Down, Duke. Behave yourself." He
wiped the sweat off his forehead. "I'm awfully sorry, Tho-mas, if I said anything I shouldn't. I don't know what came over me." He took the glass and said wistfully, "The best man wins. Only please don't leave her, Thomas." "0f course I shan't leave her," I said. Phuong said to me, "Would he like to smoke a pipe?" "Would you like to smoke a pipe?"
''No, thank you, I don't touch opium and we have strict rules in the service. I'll just drink this up and be off. I'm sorry about Duke. He's very quiet as a rule." "Stay to supper."
"I think, if you don't mind, I'd rather be alone." He gave an uncertain grin. "I suppose people would say we'd both beheaved rather strangely. I wish you could marry her, Thomas."
'Do you really?" "Yes. Ever since I saw that place-you know, that house near the Chalet-I've been so afraid." He drank his unaccustomed whisky quickly, not looking at Phuong, and when he said goodbye he didn't touch her hand, but gave an awkward little bobbing bow. I noticed hot her eyes followed him to the door and as I passed the mirror I saw myself: the top button of my trousers undane, the beginning of a paunch. Outside he said, "I promise not to see her, Thomas. You won't let this interfere between us, will you? I'll get a transfer when I finish my tour."
"When's that?" "About two years." I went back to the room and I thought, 'Whafsthe good? I might as well have told them both that I was going.'
He had only to carry his bleeding heart for a few weeks as a decoration . . . My lie would even ease his conscience. "Shall I make you a pipe?" Phuong asked. "Yes, in a moment. I just want to write a letter." It was the second letter of the day, but I tore none of this up, though I had as little hope of a response. I wrote: "Dear Helen, I am coming back to England next April to take the job of foreign editor. You can imagine I am not very happy about it. England is to me the scene of my failure. I had intended our marriage to last quite as much as if I had shared your Christian beliefs. To this day I'm not certain what went wrong (I know we both tried), but I think it was my temper. I know how cruel and bad my temper can be. Now I think it's a little better-the East has done that for menot sweeter, but quieter. Perhaps it's simply that I'm five years older-at that end of life when five years becomes a high proportion of what's left. You have been very generous to me, and you have never reproached me once since our separation. Would you be even more generous? I know that before we married you warned me there could never be a divorce. I accepted the risk and I've nothing to complain of. At the same time I'm asking for one now."
Phuong called out to me from the bed that she had the tray ready. "A moment," I said.
"I could wrap this up," I wrote, "and make it sound more honourable and more dignified by pretending it was for someone else's sake. But it isn't, and we always used to tell each other the truth. It's for my sake and only mine. I love someone very much, we have lived together for more than two years, she has been very loyal to me, but I know I'm not essential to her. If I leave her, she'll be a little unhappy I think, but there won't be any tragedy. She'll marry someone else and have a family. It's stupid of me to tell you this. I'm putting a reply into your mouth. But because I've been truthful so far, perhaps you'll believe me when I tell you that to lose her will be, for me, the begin-ning of death. I'm not asking you to be 'reasonable' (reason is all on your side) or to be merciful. It's too big a word for my situation and anyway I don't particularly deserve mercy. I suppose what I'm really asking you is to behave, all of a sudden, irrationally, out of. character. I want you to feel-(I hesitated over the word and then I didn't get it right) affec-tion and to-act before you have time to think. I know that's easier done over a telephone than over eight thousand miles. If only you'd just cable me 1 agree'!" When I had finished I felt as though I had run a long way and strained unconditioned muscles .*l lay down on the bed while Phuong made my pipe. I said, "He's young."
"Who?" "Pyle" "That's not so important." "I would marry you if I could, Phuong." "I think so, but my sister does not believe it." "I have just written to my wife and I have asked her to divorce me. I have never tried before. There is always a chance."
"A big chance?" "No, but a small one." "Don't worry. Smoke." I drew in the smoke and she began to prepare my second pipe. I asked her again, "Was your sister really not at home, Phuong?"