His brows knitted.
'Does it end with just our two selves?' he asked, tense.
'Yes--what more do you want? If anybody likes to come along, let them.
But why must you run after them?'
His face was tense and unsatisfied.
'You see,' he said, 'I always imagine our being really happy with some
few other people--a little freedom with people.'
She pondered for a moment.
'Yes, one does want that. But it must HAPPEN. You can't do anything for
it with your will. You always seem to think you can FORCE the flowers
to come out. People must love us because they love us--you can't MAKE
them.'
'I know,' he said. 'But must one take no steps at all? Must one just go
as if one were alone in the world--the only creature in the world?'
'You've got me,' she said. 'Why should you NEED others? Why must you
force people to agree with you? Why can't you be single by yourself, as
you are always saying? You try to bully Gerald--as you tried to bully
Hermione. You must learn to be alone. And it's so horrid of you.
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