I thought she hated me all the time because I was not worldly. I should not have known I was not simple unless she had told me; that child.
… Dear Mr. Bowdoin … and I think I can promise you an audience. … I regret that I cannot come on Thursday and I am sincerely sorry that you should think I desired an audience … the extraordinary pompous touchiness of men … why didn’t he see I did not dream of suggesting he should come again just to see me. I’ve forgotten Mr. Bowdoin … and the Museum … everything. … I sit here … playing to hide myself from the Baileys and he is away somewhere making people happy. “They do not care … they see me, they shout Ah! Don Clement ! I amuse them, I laugh, they think I am happy. Voilà tout, mademoiselle. … Il n’y a qu’une chose qui m’amuse. ”