'You once explained to me that love isn't everything for you,' Lewis said in a sudden burst of volubility. 'All right. But then why do you insist on its being everything for me. If I feel like coming to New York, like seeing some friends, it makes you angry. You aren't satisfied unless you are all that matters, unless nothing else exists for me but you, unless I devote my whole life to you while you sacrifice nothing of yours. It isn't fair!'

I remained silent. There was. a good deal of distortion in his reproaches, and a good deal of incoherence as well. But that wasn't the question. For the first time that evening I saw a ray of light; it wasn't at all reassuring.