[zig zigalo]

more to say. The wind plastered
their thin overalls against their bodies. Almost at once it became
embarrassing to sit there in silence: besides, it was too cold to keep
still. She said something about catching her Tube and stood up to go.
'We must meet again,' he said.
'Yes,' she said, 'we must meet again.'
He followed irresolutely for a little distance, half a pace behind
her. They did not speak again. She did not actually try to shake him off,
but walked at just such a speed as to prevent his keeping abreast of her.
He had made up his mind that he would accompany her as far as the Tube
station, but suddenly this process of trailing along in the cold seemed
pointless and unbearable. He was overwhelmed by a desire not so much to get
away from Julia as to get back to the Chestnut Tree Cafe, which had never
seemed so attractive as at this moment. He had a nostalgic vision of his
corner table, with the newspaper and the chessboard and the ever-flowing
gin. Above all, it would be warm in there. The next moment, not altogether
by accident, he allowed himself to become separated from her by a small
knot of people. He made a halfhearted attempt to catch up, then slowed
down, turned, and made off in the opposite direction. When he had gone
fifty metres he looked back. The street was not crowded, but already he
could not distinguish her. Any one of a dozen hurrying figures might have
been hers. Perhaps her thickened, stiffened body was no longer recognizable
from behind.
'At the time when it happens,' she had said, 'you do me