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“Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. She thought me— filthy. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. It isn’t the same thing. "I'll fetch it. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you.
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