And I thought it might frighten her if I told her I loved her. It
seemed simpler for things to remian as they were--for us to be
pasionate when we were in bed, and in between times to be close
friends. I was also afraid myself that she would depend on me, and
I imagined every time I turned around I would see her and she would
say, What shall we do now?
-- Paul Theroux. My Secret History. (107-108)