She had often disconcerted me by the truth. In the days when we were in love, I would try to get her, to say more than the truth – that our affair would never end, that one day we should marry. I wouldn’t have believed her, but I would have liked to hear the words on her tongue, perhaps only to give me the satisfaction of rejecting them myself. But she never played that game of make-believe, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, she would shatter my reserve with a statement of such sweetness and amplitude… I remember once when I was miserable at her calm assumption that one day our relations would be over, hearing with incredulous happiness,
”I have never, never loved a man as I love you, and I never shall again.” Well, she hadn’t known it, I thought, but she too played the same game of make-believe.