At first it had been a torrent; now it was a tide$$$ with a flow and ebb. During its flood she could almost fool them both. It was as if out of her knowledge that it was just a flow that must presently react was born a wilder fury$$$ a fierce denial that

At first it had been a torrent; now it was a tide$$$ with a flow and ebb. During its flood she could almost fool them both. It was as if out of her knowledge that it was just a flow that must presently react was born a wilder fury$$$ a fierce denial that could flag itself and him into physical experimentation that transcended imagining$$$ carried them as though by momentum alone$$$ bearing them without volition or plan. It was as if she knew somehow that time was short$$$ that autumn was almost upon her$$$ without knowing yet the exact significance of autumn. It seemed to be instinct alone: instinct physical and instinctive denial of the wasted years. Then the tide would ebb. Then they would be stranded as behind a dying mistral$$$ upon a spent and satiate beach$$$ looking at one another like strangers$$$ with hopeless and reproachful (on his part with weary: on hers with despairing) eyes.