It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. Lucy was silent. I love my husband.
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