‘No. No.’
She was locked away from him and he did not know it. What he mistook for her living self was a mummy, with a heart of dry dust. He had not the perspicacity to see it.
He was silent and then said:
‘I wouldn’t ask you for anything you—weren’t prepared to give me. I hope—that might come. But for the present all I want is to help you live again—in better, more enduring, ways. Will you let me? Will you allow me to love you, Judith?’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps, Julian. I’ll try. I’ll try to love you too.’ The words broke from her on top of a great sigh.
‘My dear!’ She felt his triumph. He put an arm round her and lightly kissed her, and she thought: ‘Now I’ve been kissed by all three of them.’
‘But wait, Julian!’ she protested, near to nervous tears. ‘Don’t say any more now. Take me home.’
‘Yes, yes. I’ll take you home now.’ His voice was soothing and tender. He was letting her see that his patience was infinite. This time, she was caught.
The car glided downwards from the hills into the plain, through the lovely calm. Once she broke silence to say:
‘Nothing’s worth while, Julian? It doesn’t matter what one does? There’s no point, really, in being alive?’