“We're parting—as people part in a play. It's distressing. But I don't feel as though you and I were really never to see each other again for years. Do you?”
I thought. “No,” I said.
“After we've parted I shall look to talk it over with you.”
“So shall I.”
“That's absurd.”
“Absurd.”
“I feel as if you'd always be there, just about where you are now. Invisible perhaps, but there. We've spent so much of our lives joggling elbows.”...
“Yes. Yes. I don't in the least realise it. I suppose I shall begin to when the train goes out of the station. Are we wanting in imagination, Isabel?”
“I don't know. We've always assumed it was the other way about.”
“Even when the train goes out of the station—! I've seen you into so many trains.”