always make her believe what she did not believe.

‘Perhaps,’ she said, full of mistrust, of herself and everybody. ‘But,’ she added, ‘I do think that one can’t have anything new whilst one cares for the old — do you know what I mean? — even fighting the old is belonging to it. I know, one is tempted to stop with the world, just to fight it. But then it isn’t worth it.’

Gudrun considered herself.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘In a way, one is of the world if one lives in it. But isn’t it really an illusion to think you can get out of it? After all, a cottage in the Abruzzi, or wherever it may be, isn’t a new world. No, the only thing to do with the world, is to see it through.’