In the torpor of the afternoon the remembered road had the slightly menacing and elusive familiarity of a place in a dream when one thinks: I have been here, yet where is it and what is going to happen?

And could it be true without other awful things being true as well?

I just don't know what's going to happen. All I know is that whatever it is it's got to happen. Next week.

Now that the doors of possibility had magically opened one after the other, Ludens realised how much comfort he had derived from uncertainty.

As he rose to go and held Louise's hand and gazed at her he felt for a moment his old love for her taking possession of his whole being. They looked at each other. I feed upon this looking, thought Clement, but does she? I don't know, and I cannot ask. I am terrified of saying something which would wound our whole precious relationship. We are well as we are. I love her, that's all, that is my drama.