Leonard Merrick,
The Man Who Understood Women and Other Stories…
(1919)
“ Then he knew that he loved her. He ceased at last to excuse himself by saying that he found her "companionable," that there was "nothing in it"; he knew that he loved her, that the world was peopled by men, women, and Kate Ormerod; that she stood on a plane by herself—different from everyone else. Paris now—the Paris that was open to him—stank in his nostrils. When he could not be with her during the day, he worked doggedly, and badly, finding occupation a relief to his impatience; but in the evening, to paint was impossible—and it was in the evening that he ate his heart out. ”
