"I don't understand--I don't know how they get there--but don't you remember that time last summer when I was picnicking with my common friends?
We were drinking beer out of a stone jug, we were singing vulgar songs, we were revelling in the silly puerilities of a bank holiday out of doors.

And I saw your face and something came to me.

I saw for a moment over the wall.

Dear, I am very sure that if I go back there will be times when I shall see over the wall, and my heart will ache and the whole taste of life will be like dust between my teeth." She leaned towards him.
"It is your fault if I say this," she whispered.

"It is you yourself who have prepared the way.