70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. ” “But how did you tell him? You’ve never told me. ” “Would not do what?” “Well, follow buses from Russell Square to Hampstead. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. Then he got up and left her. There is no need of your friend to kill you, imbecile, because I shall do so this minute. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse.
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