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LAUGHIN G TORSO
fireplace with a dreamy look on his face; he had
just taken some. Every now and then Crowley
would write on a piece of paper, " What are your
impressions? " and the marmalade manufacturer
wrote, much to Crowley's disgust, " I see coloured
patterns like the tiles in the Victoria and Albert
I visited the poet and the beautiful girl quite often.
She had a big studio in Chelsea. She seemed often
depressed and one day said to me, cc I am going
away to-morrow for a long time, perhaps for ever,
come in the morning and I will give you some
clothes.53 I was delighted as I had very few clothes.
I felt rather worried about her but did not know
what I could do. The next day I went to the studio.
Outside pinned on the door was an envelope and
inside was the key. I was rather frightened. I
opened the door and inside was a large red curtain.
I hesitated for a moment, terrified; I pulled it aside
and on the sofa she lay dead, with a mother-o'-pearl
revolver and her slippers beside her on the floor.
Her face was quite white and her golden eyes were
half closed. She had placed the revolver to her
chest, inside her dress, and shot herself through her
heart and lungs. I called the caretaker and he
fetched the police. I, of course, had to be a witness.
This depressed me for some time.
The following summer my family went to Margate
for two weeks. I did not want to go, so my Father
gave me two pounds and I took a furnished studio
in Chelsea for ten shillings a week and worked. I
was quite alone, everyone was away, and I had no