"Quite certain."
"Then why can't I imagine it?"
"We cannot imagine ourselves in other than our present circumstances; the most commonplace future is as unimaginable as the most extravagant."
"I suppose that is so."
The carriage stopped at the Continental, and he asked her what she would like to do. It was just five.
"Come and have a cup of tea in the Rue Cambon."
She consented, and, after tea, he said, standing with one foot on the carriage step—
"If you'll allow me to advise you, you will go for a drive in the Bois by yourself. I want to see some pictures."
"May I not come?"
"Certainly, if you like, but I don't think you could give your attention to pictures; you're thinking of yourself, and you want to be alone with yourself—nothing else would interest you."