You didn't. You knew I was very sorry about Queen, but you knew that
my feelings as to her death had nothing whatever to do with what I
happened to be saying when she was killed. You knew the difference
between sentiment and sentimentality. For God's sake, don't start
wondering where the shell was made."

She looked up at him, saying nothing, and he savoured the intelligence
of her weary, fine, alert, comprehending face. He did not pretend to
himself to be able to fathom the enigmas of that long glance. He had
again the feeling of the splendour of what it was to be alive, to have
survived. Just as he was leaving she said casually:

"Very well. I'll do what you want."

"What I want?"

"I won't go to Sarah Churcher's."

"You mean you'll come as assistant secretary?"

She nodded. "Only I don't need to be paid."

And he, too, fell into a casual tone:

"That's excellent."

Thus, by this nonchalance, they conspired to hide from themselves
the seriousness of that which had passed between them. The grotesque,
pretentious little apartment was mysteriously humanised; it was no
longer the reception-room of a furnished flat by chance hired for a