Chapter 41

They grew tired, she supposed, of wanting things they knew they would never have, of learning that it was unimportant, even, whether they had them or not. Yet, she thought, it would be dreadful to die, whether one was happy or not. To die, to go away from the sight of pretty frocks in bright shop windows, from the sound of dance music, never to swim again in blue salt water, never to read a book that was moving, or talk to an entertaining man. . . . She shook her head. She was more desperate than she had ever been …