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from that of other people, she meant to follow them, even if it
would be painful to her mother to hear disagreeable things said
about her.
If her relations with Gert were a sin, it did not mean that
she had given too much, but too little, and whatever the
consequences would be, she had to bear them without complaint.
She could provide for a child just as well as many a girl
who had not a tenth part of her knowledge. There was still
some money left of her inheritance—enough for her to go
abroad. If the profession she had chosen was a poor one, she
knew that several of her fellow-artists were able to keep wife
and children with it, and she had been used to helping others
from the time she was almost a child. She would, of course,
prefer not to have to do it; so far everything had been all
right—she would not think of it.
Gert would be in despair.
If it was true, how dreadful that it should happen now. If
it had happened when she loved him, or thought she did, and
she could have gone away in good faith, but now, when everything
that had been between them had crumbled to pieces, torn
asunder by her own thinking and pondering....
During these weeks at Tegneby she had made up her mind
not to go on any longer. She was longing to go away to new
conditions, new work. Yes, the longing for work had come
back; she had had enough of this sickly desire of clinging to
somebody, to be cuddled and petted and called little girl.
At the thought of breaking with him her heart winced with
pain. She shrank from causing him sorrow, but she had kept
it up as long as possible. Gert had been happy while it lasted,
and he was free from the degrading slavery with his wife.
She was perfectly resigned to the thought that her life
henceforth would be work and solitude only. She knew she could
not obliterate the past months from her life; she would always
remember them and the bitter lessons they had taught her.
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