‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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