"But you didn't say you wouldn't attend it with me, when I suggested it this morning."
"Well, Don, this is an official rejection of your proposal."
She saw his shadow bend, his body drop down beside the couch. She felt his hands on her arm. The peculiar fright went through her.
"You won't listen, Madeleine, but whatever you're looking for here—please forget it! The rituals will help you forget. Try it, Madeleine! Please—"
Why did he, all at once, sound so desperate?
"With you?"
"Why not?"
"You're just an artificial dream, Don, that comes true seasonally for people so sick that they can convince themselves you're real—for a price."
"Well, Madeleine—are you so different?"
"I guess I am."