"A doctor? What he needs is a good jolt of aromatic spirits of ammonia. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. ‘Signed by a priest at Le Havre, so it must be true. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. A sense of impending disaster was upon him.
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