“I don’t know..... I once told Mr. Hancock that I would give notice every year, because I think it must be so horrible to dismiss anybody. But I’m not going to be sent away by machinery. In a way it is like a family suddenly going to law.” But with the passing of the park and the coming of the tall houses on either side of the road, the open June morning was quenched. It retreated to balconies, flower-filled by shocked condemning people, prosperously turned away towards the world from which she was banished. Wimpole Street, Harley Street, Cavendish Square. The names sounded in her ears the appeal they had made when she was helplessly looking for work. It was as if she were still waiting to come..... Within the Saturday morning peace of the deserted house lingered the relief that had followed their definite decision. They were all drawn together to begin again, renewed, freshly conscious of the stabilities of the practice; their enclosed co-operating relationship..... She concentrated her mental gaze on their grouped personalities, sharing their long consultations, acting out in her mind with characteristic gesture and speech, the part each one had taken, confronting them one by one, in solitude, with a different version, holding on, breaking into their common-sense finalities.... It was all nothing; meaningless ..... like things in history that led on to events that did not belong to them because nobody went below the surface of the way things appear to be joined together but are not ..... but the words belonging to the underlying things were far away, only to be found in long silences, and sounding when they came out into conversations, irrelevant, often illogical and self-contradictory, impossible to prove, driving absurdly across life towards things that seemed impossible, but were true ..... there were two layers of truth. The truths laid bare by common-sense in swift decisive conversations, founded on apparent facts, were incomplete. They shaped the surface, made things go kaleidoscoping on, recognisable, in a sort of general busy prosperous agreement; but at every turn, with every application of the common-sense civilised decisions, enormous things were left behind, unsuspected, forced underground, but never dying, slow things with slow slow fruit ..... the surface shape was powerful, everyone was in it, that was where free-will broke down, in the moving on and being spirited away for another spell from the underlying things, but in everyone, alone, often unconsciously, was something, a real inside personality that was turned away from the surface. In front of everyone, away from the bridges and catchwords, was an invisible plank, that would bear ..... always .... forgotten .... nearly all smiles were smiled from the bridges .... nearly all deaths were murders or suicides ....