167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. You did not see me, I know. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. I tried to get across the terrace and onto the bridge to introduce myself, but the crowds did not part and I lost you. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again.
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