—What will become of us, Esther? When we were young, we could laugh off the whole business. You and I both know that’s what camping is. It’s a Greek mask to hide the fact that our souls are being castrated and drawn and quartered with each fresh affair. What started as a seduction at twelve goes on till we’re senile old aunties, doing it just as a reflex action. . . . —And we’re at the menopause now, Magda. . . . O God, if some hormone would just shrivel up in me and leave me in peace! I hate the thought of making a fool of myself when I turn forty. I’ll see something gorgeous walking down
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