At the conclusion of The Man Who Was Thursday Thursday comes to realise he has fallen in love with Sunday in a very roundabout way after a tumultuous chase and confrontation the night before. I dug out the book and had a scan through the final passage, after finding a copy of the book online (thanks public domain) and with a little tweaking it was a good and appropriate passage that goes a little something like this...
The Man Who Was Thursday
When men in books awake from a vision, they commonly find themselves in some place in which they might have fallen asleep; they yawn in a chair, or lift themselves with bruised limbs from a field. His experience was something much more psychologically strange if there was indeed anything unreal, in the earthly sense, about the things he had gone through. For while he could always remember afterwards that he had swooned before the face, he could not remember having ever come to at all. He could only remember that gradually and naturally he knew that he was and had been walking along a country lane with an easy and conversational companion. They were walking like old friends, and were in the middle of a conversation about some triviality. He could only feel an unnatural buoyancy in his body and a crystal simplicity in his mind that seemed to be superior to everything that he said or did. He felt he was in possession of some impossible good news, which made every other thing a triviality. Dawn was breaking over everything in colours at once clear and timid; as if Nature made a first attempt at yellow and a first attempt at rose. A breeze blew so clean and sweet, that they could not think that it blew from the sky at all.
That to me seemed to speak of a love that slowly dawns upon a person in such a way that by the time you have realised it's there, you simply couldn't imagine life without it, it has pervaded and permeated everything and also diffuses the ominous nature of Sunday's role in the book, a role well illustrated on this fanart cover...
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