. . .
"I see that in these matters I am cleaner than most men and more
easily clean; and it may be that it is in the vein of just that
distinctive virtue that I fell so readily into a passion of
resentment and anger.
"I despised a jealous man. There is a traditional discredit of
jealousy, not so strong as that against cowardice, but still very
strong. But the general contempt of jealousy is curiously wrapped
up with the supposition that there is no cause for jealousy, that it
is unreasonable suspicion. Given a cause then tradition speaks with
an uncertain voice. . . .
"I see now that I despised jealousy because I assumed that it was
impossible for Amanda to love any one but me; it was intolerable to
imagine anything else, I insisted upon believing that she was as
fastidious as myself and as faithful as myself, made indeed after my
image, and I went on disregarding the most obvious intimations that
she was not, until that still moment in the Indian Ocean, when
silently, gently as a drowned body might rise out of the depths of a
pool, that knowledge of love dead and honour gone for ever floated
up into my consciousness.
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