“I won’t say I’ll tear it up, Gerda, and I won’t say I won’t tear it up. I know you do want those things, and I want you to have them.”

The middle of their breakfast seemed likely to be the end of it too; for both of them, with simultaneous instinctive movements, pushed back their empty porridge-bowls and got up from their chairs, facing each other across the table.

“I do want you to have them!” he repeated. “And you’re not playing fair if you think I don’t! It⁠ ⁠… it goes much deeper than plates or carpets or clocks!”