” She stopped. We went to the Embassy. Suddenly remembering Kimble, her heart thudded with excitement. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it.
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