A Greater Mistake (1958)
. .the Czech's true love finally found a convent that would admit her. She made a request that for some time I had been secretly dreading. She asked me to go occasionally, . . to visit the Czech in the mental hospital. About eight times a year, for about eight years I made reluctantly the journey . . . I was relieved to find I was met with no reproaches . . By that time he had become merely a 'funny old gentleman'.
Then one day I received from the hospital a letter written partly in Olde Englyshe to warn me that the Czech would be coming to see me. I was surprised, but when I had thought about it, slightly relieved. An outing would constitute a greater diversion for him . . , and I would be spared the long journey out of London and back. He had hardly been in my room for two minutes before he kissed me. . . The situation got worse. It became obvious that this was a climax in our relationship for which the Czech had been waiting for some time. In return for my compliance, though it was less than wholehearted, the Czech used to bring me tributes of molten chocolate and ruined meat pies which he had somehow obtained from the institution. I said, 'Oh, but you shouldn't have . . .' and I meant it. . .
I found myself at the age of fifty and more, fleeing like a crotchety nymph before a satyr of seventy. When I look back on this whole episode, I am assailed once again with the feeling that overtakes me whenever I think of anyone that I have known well. I didn't do enough.
Then one day I received from the hospital a letter written partly in Olde Englyshe to warn me that the Czech would be coming to see me. I was surprised, but when I had thought about it, slightly relieved. An outing would constitute a greater diversion for him . . , and I would be spared the long journey out of London and back. He had hardly been in my room for two minutes before he kissed me. . . The situation got worse. It became obvious that this was a climax in our relationship for which the Czech had been waiting for some time. In return for my compliance, though it was less than wholehearted, the Czech used to bring me tributes of molten chocolate and ruined meat pies which he had somehow obtained from the institution. I said, 'Oh, but you shouldn't have . . .' and I meant it. . .
I found myself at the age of fifty and more, fleeing like a crotchety nymph before a satyr of seventy. When I look back on this whole episode, I am assailed once again with the feeling that overtakes me whenever I think of anyone that I have known well. I didn't do enough.