Finally they left the square.
He felt much better now that they were in the quieter darker places of the city. Mr Heywood was lonely now. He had always been lonely and that was his personal sadness. He wished that he were young. It was impossible to be lonely when one was young. He wished that he were Robert Holton.
Carla and Holton stopped to rest at the northern end of the square. They stood upon a small island of concrete surrounded by avenues. A red light shone across Holton’s face giving him a sinister expression. Carla laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your face ... you look like Mephisto.” He smiled and stepped out of the red light and stood beside her.
“What do you think of it now?” asked Holton as they stood on their island, watching.
“The things I’ve always thought. It’s very brilliant. It is a ... production.”
“Everyone comes to see it.”
“And I think it means something different to each one. It’s like a work of art that way.” She paused and added, “It is a work of art.”