Which is quite a different thing from the admiration and excitement of
falling in love. Almost the opposite thing. They cry or they come some
mental or physical cropper and hurt themselves, or they do something
distressingly little and human and suddenly I find they've GOT me. I'm
distressed. I'm filled with something between pity and an impulse of
responsibility. I become tender towards them. I am impelled to take care
of them. I want to ease them off, to reassure them, to make them stop
hurting at any cost. I don't see why it should be the weak and sickly
and seamy side of people that grips me most, but it is. I don't know why
it should be their failures that gives them power over me, but it is. I
told you of this girl, this mistress of mine, who is ill just now. SHE'S
got me in that way; she's got me tremendously."
"You did not speak of her yesterday with any morbid excess of pity," the
doctor was constrained to remark.
"I abused her very probably. I forget exactly what I said...."
The doctor offered no assistance.
"But the reason why I abuse her is perfectly plain. I abuse her because
she distresses me by her misfortunes and instead of my getting anything
out of her, I go out to her. But I DO go out to her. All this time at
the back of my mind I am worrying about her.
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