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Pity Pity could drag your face tight and hard, like Burton's when his ht they went to Stow Fair together; crossing the street at the sharp turn by the church gate, so; it was down on the round her side of the street He had had his hand tight on her arh the crowd When the car cao and juraze her thigh, as she sprang clear of it, quick, like a dog

She was sure he juo before the car carip slacken on her arm

She wasn't sure He couldn't have juo Of course he hadn't She had is If she couldabout hi She didn't want to care

"Charlotte--when I die, that's where I'd like to be buried"

Co back from Bourton market they had turned into the churchyard on the top of Stow-hill The long path went straight between the stiff yew cones through the green field set with graves

"On the top, so high up you could almost breathe in your coffin here"

"I don't want to breathe in my coffin When I'm dead I'"

"Why not? Think of the gorgeous risk of it--the supre that happens"

"Whose death?"

"My death"

"Don't talk about it"

"Your death then"

"Oh, mine--"

"Our death, Jeanne"

He turned to her in the path His , suddenly warm, suddenly tender

She knew herself then; she knew there was one cruelty, one brutality beyond bearing, John's death