world of reality。 All the rest lived on a lower sphere。
Whatever they wanted to do; they did。 They saw a few
people……Dorothy; whose guest she was supposed to be; and a
couple of friends of Skrebensky; young Oxford men; who called
her Mrs。 Skrebensky with entire simplicity。 They treated her;
indeed; with such respect; that she began to think she was
really quite of the whole universe; of the old world as well as
of the new。 She forgot she was outside the pale of the old
world。 She thought she had brought it under the spell of her
own; real world。 And so she had。
In such ever…changing reality the weeks went by。 All the
time; they were an unknown world to each other。 Every movement
made by the one was a reality and an adventure to the other。
They did not want outside excitements。 They went to very few
theatres; they were often in their sitting…room high up over
Piccadilly; with windows open on two sides; and the door open on
to the balcony; looking over the Green Park; or down upon the
minute travelling of the traffic。
Then suddenly; looking at a sunset; she wanted to go。 She
must be gone。 She must be gone at once。 And in two hours time
they were at Charing Cross taking train for Paris。 Paris was his
suggestion。 She did not care where it was。 The great joy was in
setting out。 And for a few days she was happy in the novelty of
Paris。
Then; for some reason; she must call in Rouen on the way back
to London。 He had an instinctive mistrust of her desire for the
place。 But; perversely; she wanted to go there。 It was as if she
wanted to try its effect upon her。
For the first time; in Rouen; he had a cold feeling of death;
not afraid of any other man; but of her。 She seemed to leave
him。 She followed after something that was not him。 She did not
want him。 The old streets; the cathedral; the age and the
monumental peace of the town took her away from him。 She turned
to it as if to something she had forgotten; and wanted。 This was
now the reality; this great stone cathedral slumbering there in