‘I know you can do that. But I hate ecstasy, Dionysic or any other. It’s like going round in a squirrel cage. I want you not to care about yourself, just to be there and not to care about yourself, not to insist — be glad and sure and indifferent.’

‘Who insists?’ she mocked. ‘Who is it that keeps on insisting? It isn’t ME!’

There was a weary, mocking bitterness in her voice. He was silent for some time.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘While ever either of us insists to the other, we are all wrong. But there we are, the accord doesn’t come.’

They sat in stillness under the shadow of the trees by the bank. The night was white around them, they were in the darkness, barely conscious.