But there is too much to remember now. The eleventh hour of the eleventh month and so on … Let us forget. And was I entirely sane? I’m sure he was right to fear for my sanity even then. Am I sane now? How are we to know? In 1938, when he and I first met, the greatest insanity of all was about to break upon a trembling Europe. The great European civilisation we had all known and loved was about to be destroyed.I have often wondered since if I should have made a job of it that night and thrown the wine glass at Pat’s head while I had the strength to do it, instead of meekly tipping its contents in his direction. There is never any satisfaction to be had from half measures. At that moment I did hate him. And have hated him and loved him many times since, but for other causes than envy of his child. Not deeper causes, but other. There is no deeper motive in us than envy—not even a deeper motive for the insanity that causes men to make war on each other.The season of storms began early this year and has persisted throughout the spring.
