"You and I ... what a joke ... we've got the war around us, the entire world at war!" He was unaware of his change of mood--his fumbling.
"It takes two to face the world," she said. "There's a way for us ... I believe that!"
They walked a short distance, still following the shore of the lake: kids were romping on the cut grass: girls had a goat on a rope and they were urging him along, his bell tinkling: they seemed to be headed for the nearby château, visible through the groves: a bunch of boys were throwing stones and sticks into the Lac to annoy the swans.
The tall poplars on the island bent in the wind and their movement seemed to impel the island, transform it into a ship: it was headed into the western sun, leaning somewhat to the starboard.
As Jean and Orville wandered through the park, she told herself she must have faith: last night's love-making said so. Orville struggled with mistrust, concentrating as much as possible on the things around him. Fumbling back to the days in London, Jean heard Orville say, in the threatened Red Cross building:
"So ... you're Chuck's sister ... let me show you your photo ... it's in my billfold ... Here, he gave me your address ... want to see the snapshot?"
"Sure, let me see it."
"Okay."
"But look ... what's happened to your leg? Don't you know that it's bleeding?"
"I hadn't noticed. That flak sure gets around."