After all, that was life. He's going to ask you to Prom. ‘You will not guess again?’ ‘No, no, I am quite out of ideas. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. Long ago. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. ‘Hilary was right. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you. I will never consent till I see him. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's.
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