Ida asked no questions: she let him grieve, because she knew about grief; for many years it had been her most dependable companion. Ida knew that the world — both her own and, above all, the fragile world of all-encompassing intimacy she shared with Kostya — was doomed, but she faced this doom with her eyes wide open, awaited it, stoic, erect, standing to attention, like a steadfast tin soldier.
