“She drank the wine and looked at the thick stone walls in which there were only small windows with bars high up that gave onto a narrow street where the sun did not shine. The doorway, though, gave onto an arcade and the bright sunlight on the worn stones of the square. "When you start to live outside yourself," Catherine said, "it's all dangerous.
Maybe I'd better go back into our world, your and my world that I made up; we made up I mean. I was a great success in that world. It was only four weeks ago. I think maybe I will be again."
The salad came and then there was its greenness on the dark table and the sun on the plaza beyond the arcade.”