“How's that?” asked K., looking at him. “What I mean is, that's for the worse,” he repeated. They were standing on the front steps of the bank; as the doorkeeper seemed to be listening to what they were saying K. drew his uncle down further, where they were absorbed into the bustle of the street. His uncle took K.'s arm and stopped asking questions with such urgency about the trial, they walked on for a while in silence. “But how did all this come about?” he eventually asked, stopping abruptly enough to startle the people walking behind, who had to avoid walking into him. “Things like this don't come all of a sudden, they start developing a long time beforehand, there must have been warning signs of it, why didn't you write to me?

You know I'd do anything for you, to some extent I