"Same reason. You knew. He was degraded by your knowing, so you had to be degraded. At least I suppose that's how it was."
She shook her head. He was darker to her than ever and she was no nearer to her peace. She knew everything and she understood nothing. And that was worse than not knowing.
"If only I could understand. Then, I believe, I could bear it. I wouldn't care how bad it was as long as I understood."
"Ask McClane, then. He could explain it to you. It's beyond me."
"McClane?"
"He's a psychotherapist. He knows more about people's souls than I know about their bodies. He probably knows all about Conway's soul."
Silence drifted between them, dim and silvery like the garden mist.
"Charlotte--are we never to get away from him? Is he always to stick between us? That dead man."
"It isn't that."
"What is it, then?"
"All this.... I'd give anything to care for you, Billy dear, but I don't care. I can't. I can't care for anything but the war."
"The war won't last for ever. And afterwards?"
"I can't see any afterwards."
Sutton smiled.
"And yet," he said, "there will be one."