She moved nearer leaned her shoulder against me and we were one and something flowed from her into me and I knew: this is how it must be. I knew it with every nerve and every hair every heartbeat so sweet it verged on pain. And what joy to submit to this 'must'. A piece of iron must feel such joy as it submits to the precise inevitable law that draws it to a magnet. Or a stone thrown up hesitating a moment then plunging headlong back to earth. Or a man after the final agony taking a last deep breath and dying.