“That’s very true. I think that death has passed him by without taking too much notice of him.”

“Anyway, he’ll live longer than my money will last.”

“And he might smell a rat, and we’d never meet again.”

He pulled her closer to him. “We’ll run away when all hope has gone,” he whispered fiercely.

“I’m ready. But what’ll we do then?”

“Hmm…Even our love is worthless without my father.”

“Be practical and stop dreaming.”

“Does that mean that we must wait?”

“How can we bear waiting? And after we wait, then what?”

“Death.” He sounded ominous.

“I sometimes think that he’ll bury me. He’s as healthy as anything. And me, I’ve got trouble with my liver and kidneys.”

“How ironic.” He laughed bitterly.

“He’s a crafty old devil. At the first suspicion, I’ll stop seeing you.”

“I’ll go mad,” he almost screamed.

“So will I. But what can we do?”

“Waiting is useless, escaping futile, the telephone call, a dream; what’s to be done?”

“Yes. What’s to be done?”

“I think escape is the only way out.”

“Never,” she said breathlessly.

“Then waiting.”

“Not that either,” she said, almost urging him to utter some hidden thought.

“Then what?”

“Oh. Well,” she said resignedly, “if we are unable to do anything, we’d better stop seeing each other.”

He put his hand firmly on her mouth. “I’d rather die,” he said.

“Death,” she sighed. Then, as though speaking to herself, she repeated, “Yes, death.”

He felt his heart beating faster, and his heavy breathing was deafening in the ensuing silence. “Why are you silent?”

“I’m tired,” she answered. “Enough questions.”

“But we’re back where we started.”

“Let it be.”

“But there must be a solution,” he almost pleaded.

“What?”

“I’m asking you.”

“And I’m asking you.”

“I was expecting a suggestion from you, a word, anything.”

“No. I’ve no suggestions. It’s a dream. Just like your telephone call. If I could inherit the money and the hotel, we’d live together forever.”

He sighed. She continued: “The trouble is that we dream whenever we fail to find a way out, an escape. Dreams are our only escape.”

“But the dream may be realized.”

“How?”

“All by itself.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No!”

“And now dawn is breaking, and we’ve said all that can be said,” she muttered.

He watched her shadow dressing in the dark. One last passionate embrace, and she left. Alone in the dark once again. Darkness like death and the grave. Your mother’s grave. Alone with just your thoughts. Alone, cold, dark. In court, when sentence was passed, she cried out, “I know the monster who is behind this. I’ll kill him.” But her term in jail killed her, slowly but surely.