" He was twenty-eight then. I was twenty. What followed was strange. An attachment? A conviction? I make no case for it, either way. Or only this case: that it was based on nothing and fed on nothing. For the next three years we saw each other for a few days a year, that was all. Wet English winters. Black rooms above pubs... Rather he looked dull, resentful. His eyes in shadow; dark slots. "

― Gwendoline Riley , First Love