Perhaps it was one of those mild, sunny winter days when you have a feeling of holiday and eternity-the illusory feeling that the course of time is suspended, and that you need only slip through this breach to escape the trap that is closing around you.
Did you see her again in France? I asked him.”“No. When I got to France, she was already dead. She committed suicide …”“Why?”“She often told me she was frightened of getting old…