
We had been married for three months when I started comparing her with other girls whose tender care I had discouraged. She was not as hard- working as Monique or Chantal. She neither had the wit nor the sense of humour of Marie-Claire or Suzanne. She was far from being as sensuous as Sylvie or Dorotha. She lacked this and she lacked that. I was bored with her. I had made the wrong choice. It was the drama of my life. I needed to divorce her before it was too late. I kept thinking