Once in the garden she found herself pulling off her clothes.  She felt a vague surprise that her actions should go on so far ahead of her consciousness of them.  Every movement she made seemed the perfect expression of lightness and grace.  ‘Look out,’ said a part of her.  ‘Go carefully.’  But it was the same part of her that sent out the warning when she was drinking too much.  At this point it was meaningless.  ‘Habit,’ she thought.  ‘Whenever I’m about to be happy I hang on instead of letting go.’  She kicked off her sandals and stood naked in the shadows. (Bowles, 246)

(Sounds slutty, but she is just going for a swim alone in the dark.)