"No one, no one is dead," says Louise, "we are all three here."
No—no—no! Somebody is dead. Somebody has been killed, I know it. I know it. Who is it? Is it I—is it Chérie who is dead? Louise's arms are about me, her tears fall on my face.
Then once again the velvet mist falls, and the world is blotted out.
We are on board a ship, dipping and rising on green-grey waters....
Many people are around us; derelicts like ourselves....
Soon the white cliffs of England shine and welcome us.