Fancy that he would submit me to so much humihation.
But I will see him. I will speak to him. He has no right to treat me as he does.
Though of course that is just the point, he can treat me exactly as he pleases. He may humiliate me and ill-treat me—I should only feel it a joy to be tortured by him. I will crawl at his feet like a dog—he can kick me away, I will return and I won't leave him in peace until he lets me stay with him.
I thought that there was perhaps some one else he loves now and who comes to him, and that this was the reason that he would not see me.
I will write to him: Love any one else you like. If I am not sufficient for you and if you need change—well—it must be so. I shall understand. You are an artist. You need new impressions, new inspirations. I am only a poor little girl with nothing but my love. But I want you to know that without anger, I can share you with another.
The only thing I demand is that you shall not give me up. I will—in spite of everything and everybody—have some part in you, and I want to be the one who is near you when all the others have gone.
HE answers me:
'No, Julie, you must not send me such letters. As I learned to know you—as I think of
