Nadine had never been able quite to keep pace with Seymour: she always lagged a little behind, just as Hugh lagged so much more behind her. She was still gasping from the violence of his seizure of her, when he had descended, so to speak, a thousand feet or so. Tenderness still clung about her like soaked raiment.
"Oh, Seymour," she said. "I didn't realize you felt like that: I didn't, really. What are you going to do?"
His clever handsome face wore an uncompromising look, but there was humor in his eyes.
"I may take to drink," he said, "like your angelic father. Very likely I shan't, because I notice that it spoils your breakfast if you are intoxicated the evening before. I shall certainly try to get some more jade, and I shan't marry Antoinette, because she is buxom. If I marry, I shall marry some girl who reminds me of asparagus, like you. Not the stout French asparagus, of course, but the lean English variety. I should not wonder if I came to your wedding, and wrote an account of it to a ladies' newspaper. I shall say you were looking hideous. I haven't got any other plans, except to go away from this place. You are a sort of chucker-out, Nadine, at Winston. You chucked out Hugh in the summer, and now in the winter you chuck me out. You are a vampire, I think. You suck people dry, and then you throw them away like orange skins. Don't argue with me: if you argued I should become rude. I was rude to Aunt Dodo the other day, when she showed me you sleeping on the floor by Hugh's bed. It was a sickening spectacle: I told her so at the time, and I tell you so now."
Poor complicated Nadine! Her complications had been canceled like vulgar fractions, and she was left in a state of the most deplorable simplicity. There was a numerator, and that was Hugh; there was a nought below and that was she. The simplest arithmetician could see that the nought "went into" the numerator an infinite number of times. The result was that there was Hugh and nothing else at all. Her surrendered reply indicated this: it indicated also her knowledge of it.
"But it was Hughie there," she said.
And then suddenly Seymour's unexpanded parachute opened, and he floated in liquid air, with the azure encompassing him.
"Your Hughie," he said.
"Mine," said Nadine.