It was not loss of interest either that led no one
to refer to it, least of all, to clamour for fulfilment. It was quite
another motive that kept them silent, and that, even when Uncle Felix
handed back the watches, prevented them saying anything more than
"Thank you, Uncle," then hanging them on to belt and waistcoat.
Expectation--an eternal Expectation--was established in them.
But there was also this sense of elusive strangeness in their hearts,
the certainty that an enormous interval had passed, almost the
conviction that an Extra Day--had been. Somewhere, somehow, they had
experienced its fulfilment: It was now inside them. A strange
familiarity hung about this Sunday morning.
Yet there were still a million things to do and endless time in which
to do them. Expectation was stronger than ever before, but the sense
of Interval brought a happy feeling of completion too. There was no
hurry. They felt something of what Maria felt, living at the centre of
a circle that turned unceasingly but never finished. It was Maria's
particular adventure, and Maria had shared it with them. Wonder and
expectation made them feel more than usually--alive.
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