"You may believe it to be unthinkable, and I may believe it to be inevitable; but what does it matter what either of us believes?
Che sara sara.

It was quite another thing that caused me to annoy myself.

It does not matter." Michael lay back on the soft slope.
"Yet I insist on knowing," he said.

"That is, I mean, if it is not private." Falbe lay quietly with his long fingers in the sediment of pine-needles.
"Well, then, as it is not private, and as you insist," he said, "I will certainly tell you.

Does it not strike you that you are behaving like an absolute stranger to me?
We have talked of me and my home and my plans all the time since we met at Victoria Station, and you have kept complete silence about yourself.