This is simply a chapter of coincidences. Most people, every one I know else, seem to have mated with foreigners and to talk uneasily in unfamiliar tongues, to be afraid of the knowledge the other one has, of the other one’s perpetual misjudgment and misunderstandings. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. You've caught the colour and the life.
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