“You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. ‘He don’t mean you no harm. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. His treatment of his wife is most unsatisfactory. ” They heard a man’s voice outside. Burn your palette and your easel. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. ” “It is ironic that you say that, John, for it is I who am afraid of you. ” He paused.
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