The Painted Veil PDF By W Somerset Maugham

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Painted Veil

Sie shouted in shock. “What’s the matter?” He asked. Despite the darkness of the closed room, he saw her face suddenly distraught with terror.

“Somebody just tried to open the door.” “Well, maybe it was Amaha or one of the boys.” “They never come at this time. They know that I always sleep after tiffin.”

“Who else could it be?” “Walter,” she whispered, her lips trembling. He pointed to her shoes.

He tried to put them on, but his nervousness, because his alarm was affecting him, made him clumsy, and besides, they were on the right side.

With a slight sigh of impatience, he handed her the shoe horn. She went barefoot to her dressing table wearing a kimono.

Eller’s hair was cut and with a comb he had tidied up the mess before lacing up his other shoe. He handed over his belongings to her.

“How do I get out?” “You better wait a while. I’ll go out and see if everything is okay.”

“It can’t possibly be Walter. He doesn’t leave the lab until five.”

“Then who is it?” They spoke in whispers now. She was trembling. It happened to her that in some emergency she used to lose her head and suddenly, she used to get angry at him.

If it was not safe then why did he say that it was safe? He held his breath and placed his hand on her arm. He followed the direction of her gaze.

They stood facing the windows leading to the verandah. They were closed and the shutters were latched. He saw the white china knob of the handle slowly turning.

He had heard that no one was walking in the verandah. It was horrifying to see that silent motion. A minute passed and there was no sound.

Then, with the gruesomeness of the supernatural, in the same secret, noiseless and sinister manner, he also saw the white Chinese knob of the handle at the turn of the other window.

Oh, how disgusting it was that she was not free, that both of them were not free! He didn’t like his wife.

Kitty’s wandering thoughts now for a moment rested on Dorothy Townsend. How unfortunate to be called Dorothejl, it dated you.

She was at least thirty-eight years old. But Charlie* never talked about that. Of course he didn’t care about her; He bore her to death.

But he was a gentman. Kitty smiled with affectionate sarcasm: it was just like her, the silly old thing; He may be unfaithful to her, but he will never let a word of disrespect slip from his lips.

She was a tall woman, taller than Kitty, neither fat nor thin, with lots of light brown hair; She could not be more beautiful than the beauty of youth; His features were quite good if not remarkable, and his blue eyes were cold.

His skin was such that you will not see it again and there was no color on his cheeks.

And she was dressed like that – well, like she was, the wife of the assistant colonial secretary in Hong Kong.

Kitty smiled and shrugged her shoulders lightly.

Of course no one can deny that Dorothy Townsend had a sweet voice.

She was a wonderful mother, that’s what Charlie always said about her, and she was what Kitty’s mother would call a gentleman.

But Kitty didn’t like him. She did not like his informal manner; And the politeness with which she treated you when you went there for tea or dinner was exasperating because you couldn’t help but feel how little interest she took in you.

That she didn’t care about anything other than her children: two boys at school in England, and another six-year-old she was going to take home next year.

The hex face was a mask. She smiled and in her pleasant, nice way said the things that were expected of her; But all his cordiality put you off.

He had few close friends in the colony and they greatly admired him.

Kitty wondered if Mrs. Townsend thought her a little common. She blushed.

After all there was no reason to air it.

True, her father was a colonial governor and of course it was grand – everyone stood when you entered a room and people took off their hats when you passed in your car – but what could be more insignificant than a colonial governor retiring?

Dorothy Townsend’s father lived on a pension in a small house at Earl’s Court.

AuthorW Somerset Maugham
PDF Size14.2 MB
CategoryFiction & Novel


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