“It’s always so. For you as well as for me. There’s always complications.” He walked on steadily in the dark.

“And are you sorry?” she said.

“In a way!” he replied, looking up at the sky. “I thought I’d done with it all. Now I’ve begun again.”

“Begun what?”

“Life.”

“Life!” she reechoed, with a queer thrill.

“It’s life,” he said. “There’s no keeping clear. And if you do keep clear you might almost as well die. So if I’ve got to be broken open again, I have.”

She did not quite see it that way, but still.⁠ ⁠…

“It’s just love,” she said cheerfully.

“Whatever that may be,” he replied.