But now, they’d decided, was the time for it to be over. They loved each other—they both acknowledged that. Though they possibly were not in love (these were Madeleine’s distinctions). Yet, they had been in something, she understood, possibly something even better than love, something with its own intense and timeless web, densely tumultuous interiors and transporting heights. What it exactly was was hazy. But it had not been nothing.
          ･ ･ ･
      “Are you trying to think of something nice to say?” Madeleine said jauntily.
      “No,” Henry said. “I was trying not to.”
      “Well, that’s just as good,” she said, smiling. “It might not be good enough for everybody, but I understand. It’s hard to know how to end a thing that didn’t completely begin.“