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Now she is doing absolutely everything to him, and he felt like it better than Connie, and less ashamed of taking her intimate care. She liked to walk behind him. She loved to have his body at his disposal - is entirely up to the last service. Once she told Connie, "All men are - the children, when they see through to the ground. I had to take care of the crudest miners in russian women. Little sore that they have - they became children, just big kids. Both men are all alike! "First, MRS. Bolton believed that among the other people on the master-standing, as was Sir Clifford, yet there is a huge difference. So Clifford scary impressed her. But gradually, as she saw through it to the ground - put it in words, - she found that he too was just a child, russian women to the size of an adult male, but the child with an amazing character and excellent manners, with great force of will and knows all sorts of weird things which she had no idea, and through which he could still keep it in check. Connie would sometimes say to him: "For God's sake, do not sup-White is so influenced by this woman!" But as time went by, she realized that she did not love him enough to tell him that. Out of habit, they still spent their evenings together, up to 10 hours. They talked, or read aloud, or disassemble the manuscript. But the pleasure of the evening was gone. She was tired of his manuscripts. But it is still copied them on a typewriter out of a sense of duty. Over time, MRS. Bolton would do even that. Because Connie suggested that she learn to type on a typewriter, and russian women, always ready to serve, beginning immediately and diligently practiced. And now Clifford sometimes dictate business letters, and she printed them pretty slowly, but correctly. And he patiently dictated to her by letter difficult words or random French phrases. She was so glad this: to teach it was just a pleasure. Now Connie is sometimes complained of a headache - as an excuse to go to his room after dinner. "Maybe, MRS. Bolton will play piquet with you, Clifford," - she said. "Oh, I did well. You go to your room, dear, and by-breath. "But as soon as she was leaving, he called MRS. Bolton, and asked her to play with him at a picket in bezique or even chess. He taught her all these games. AND MRS. Bolton, reddening, excited as a little girl who was moving his king uncertain fingers and straighten it in the next minute. This - it was a strange unpleasant Connie. Clifford A little patronizing smile and teasing her "You have to tell - give in! "She looked at him frightened, bright eyes, then murmured shyly, obediently and "give in!"