‘Good-bye, Marthe,’ said Cincinnatus. She sat down and lapsed into thought, leaning on her right elbow, and sketching her world on the table with her left hand. ‘How dreadful, how dull,’ she said, heaving a deep, deep sigh. She frowned and drew a river with her fingernail. ‘I thought we would meet quite differently. I was ready to give you everything. And this is what I get for my pains! Well, what’s done is done.’ (The river flowed into a sea – off the edge of the table.)
