'I've no idea,' he said and laid his hand on the door handle. He felt oddly pensive. He'd become accustomed to being lonely, hungry and thirsty; a pilgrim with neither friends nor means of sustenance. Something told him that beyond this door lay the means to undo all the things that he was. He feared that if he opened this door, he would seize to be the pilgrim.
Ripley kept on talking, but her voice sounded distant and the meaning of her words were lost on him.
'Okay,' he muttered to himself and opened the door. 'Okay.'