She pulled her wrap closer round her with a gesture of defence, of keeping out and off. She didn’t want to grow sentimental. Difficult not to, here: the marvellous night stole in through all one’s chinks, and brought in with it, whether one wanted them or not, enormous feelings – feelings one couldn’t manage, great things about death and time and waste – glorious and devastating things, magnificent and bleak, at once rapture and terror and immense, heart-cleaving longing. She felt small and dreadfully alone. She felt uncovered and defenceless. Instinctively she pulled her wrap closer. With
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