“But there’s only this world,” she objected.
He spread out his hands with a gesture of indifference.
“Meanwhile, then, we’ll avoid having things of our own,” he said.
“But you’ve just bought a chair,” she said.
“I can tell the man I don’t want it,” he replied.
She pondered again. Then a queer little movement twitched her face.
“No,” she said, “we don’t want it. I’m sick of old things.”
“New ones as well,” he said.
They retraced their steps.
There—in front of some furniture, stood the young couple, the woman who was going to have a baby, and the narrow-faced youth. She was fair, rather short, stout. He was of medium height, attractively built. His dark hair fell sideways over his brow, from under his cap, he stood strangely aloof, like one of the damned.