I oughtn't to have left him. I can see now that I oughtn't, but I had an
idea then that if he were left alone he would go to sleep. Not, of
course, immediately; I didn't do that myself. I lay awake, I think, for
two hours or more, smoking cigarette after cigarette and pondering. But
it wasn't Severn who occupied the centre of the stage. Perhaps it was
odd that his personal affairs stirred me so little; but then, I had
always felt that he was incalculable. There was hardly a thing in the
world, good or bad, that I would ever have swore that he wouldn't or
couldn't do. I don't mean to assert that I wasn't surprised to find him
running off with another woman; I _was_ surprised, but, if you know what
I mean, I wasn't surprised to be surprised.
What mattered most was Terry's health. His great need was for rest and
tranquillity of mind, and it was very evident that neither was to be
obtained in Buda-Pesth. We must leave it, therefore; and I fell asleep
with that decision firmly fixed in my mind. I think I must have slept
heavily, for I remember nothing till I opened my eyes to see Terry in my
room again, still fully dressed. It was past dawn, for the window, as he
pulled the blind away from it, threw a ghostly spotlight over his head
and shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't intend to wake you."