The dim blacked-out buses fumbled past. He stood by the kerb, trying to unravel the confusion in his mind. Thoughts of Patricia swung dizzily from pole to pole: of eager desire and the reluctance of – of fear, of hate, of ambition only? Even the desire was far from being simple; there were strands in it making it more deeply complex than its opposite. In fact, desire and revulsion from desire were tied together. Neither could live without the other.

His bus came, and he climbed aboard. He went upstairs and found a seat in the ghostly dark.

There were two courses of action, or rather one of positive and one of negative action. If he were to decide against her, then he must break things now, before they had even begun to bud. He thought of that. It was impossible to measure in advance what regret might come of it, but regret there would be, and perhaps much.

He knew he was not going to give her up, and, knowing this, felt somewhere in his mind the frisson of an unidentifiable and savage joy.