Every so often he would suddenly gaze at Amy and make the odd remark, such as, ‘You are incredibly naive, I never realised that.’ ‘Oh, do you really think so?’ ‘You’re very American. Basically bourgeois.’ ‘I don’t consider myself bourgeois. I don’t think I live a bourgeois life.’ ‘Most bourgeois don’t! I think I might just prove you wrong. There’s so much of real life that you’re ignorant of, could never handle. You’ve never lost your innocence. It’s part of your attraction. You should love me less.’ ‘Why? So I could give you a reason to abandon me?’ Amy had not the least idea where that came from. She said it instinctively, without thought, and was appalled by the look on his face. She had caught him out. That was exactly what he wished for, to be able to give her up. She felt so ill she had to leave the room. She walked past him and patted him on the shoulder. ‘I’m going to take a nap,’ she told him. The signs were there; his love for her was on the wane, if not his lust.
