“You’re alive,” he said. “I thought I’d lost you. You’re alive.” “You’re alive, too!” she said. She wanted to stop and think about what I thought I’d lost you might mean, but it didn’t quite seem like the time. And he was very warm and she was very cold and it was very pleasant to be held in such a fashion. “You’re alive.” “Yes, yes,” said the dust-wife testily. “We’re all alive. Please don’t cry on me about it, though.”
