“It is true, isn’t it, darling? I’m not just driving down to the stazione in Milan to see you off.”
“I hope not.”
“Don’t say that. It frightens me. Maybe that’s where we’re going.”
“I’m so groggy I don’t know,” I said.
“Let me see your hands.”
I put them out. They were both blistered raw.
“There’s no hole in my side,” I said.
“Don’t be sacrilegious.”
I felt very tired and vague in the head. The exhilaration was all gone. The carriage was going along the street.
“Poor hands,” Catherine said.