‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. ’ ‘Ah yes. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. But, indeed, he’s very human. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. She had Cathy’s predisposition to overweight and her hips were solid and thick under her jeans. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience.
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