I got it into her and she stood there a long time talking a lot of foolish soothing nonsense. (I didn't believe that part for a second.) We put the wife to bed with a wet towel around her forehead and the while the girl upstairs was bending over her I stood behind her and lifting her kimono. In the excitement she got close to me and things happened without either of us intending anything to happen. She was in her kimono and her hair was hanging down her back. The girl upstairs came running down to see what was the matter. We had a hot discussion and finally I lost my temper and I clouted her and she fell on the floor and began to weep and sob. 'When I got home my wife was awake and sore as hell because I had stayed out so long. If you have read any of Henry's books you know that he shares his life, everything, even the stuff that makes him look like a lout. Henry fought with his wife, the first wife, the one with the shovel face, like two piranhas caught in a barrel. It wasn't that Henry made the best of first impressions, but give him time, give him an evening with a nun, and she'll be at the altar the next morning, still trembling from a night of degradation, renouncing or reaffirming her vows. He is like a bloodhound once he catches the scent of a female that he has not had carnal knowledge with. The first thing, if you are lucky, that you discover about Henry Miller is that you shouldn't introduce him to your wife, your sister, your mother or any other female that you care to leave unsullied. One more ray of sun and I will be rotten.' I am like the luscious deceptive fruit which hangs on the Californian trees.

The tropic of capricorn book