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Day
after
day
as
we
sat
at
tea
we
observed
these
sights
.
'
But
we
were
all
different
.
The
wax
--
the
virginal
wax
that
coats
the
spine
melted
in
different
patches
for
each
of
us
.
The
growl
of
the
boot-boy
making
love
to
the
tweeny
among
the
gooseberry
bushes
;
the
clothes
blown
out
hard
on
the
line
;
the
dead
man
in
the
gutter
;
the
apple
tree
,
stark
in
the
moonlight
;
the
rat
swarming
with
maggots
;
the
lustre
dripping
blue
--
our
white
wax
was
streaked
and
stained
by
each
of
these
differently
.
Louis
was
disgusted
by
the
nature
of
human
flesh
;
Rhoda
by
our
cruelty
;
Susan
could
not
share
;
Neville
wanted
order
;
Jinny
love
;
and
so
on
.
We
suffered
terribly
as
we
became
separate
bodies
.
'
Yet
I
was
preserved
from
these
excesses
and
have
survived
many
of
my
friends
,
am
a
little
stout
,
grey
,
rubbed
on
the
thorax
as
it
were
,
because
it
is
the
panorama
of
life
,
seen
not
from
the
roof
,
but
from
the
third-storey
window
,
that
delights
me
,
not
what
one
woman
says
to
one
man
,
even
if
that
man
is
myself
.
How
could
I
be
bullied
at
school
therefore
?
How
could
they
make
things
hot
for
me
?
There
was
the
Doctor
lurching
into
chapel
,
as
if
he
trod
a
battleship
in
a
gale
of
wind
,
shouting
out
his
commands
through
a
megaphone
,
since
people
in
authority
always
become
melodramatic
--
I
did
not
hate
him
like
Neville
,
or
revere
him
like
Louis
.
I
took
notes
as
we
sat
together
in
chapel
.
There
were
pillars
,
shadows
,
memorial
brasses
,
boys
scuffling
and
swopping
stamps
behind
Prayer
Books
;
the
sound
of
a
rusty
pump
;
the
Doctor
booming
,
about
immortality
and
quitting
ourselves
like
men
;
and
Percival
scratching
his
thigh
.
I
made
notes
for
stories
;
drew
portraits
in
the
margin
of
my
pocket-book
and
thus
became
still
more
separate
.
Here
are
one
or
two
of
the
figures
I
saw
.
'
Percival
sat
staring
straight
ahead
of
him
that
day
in
chapel
.
He
also
had
a
way
of
flicking
his
hand
to
the
back
of
his
neck
.
His
movements
were
always
remarkable
.
We
all
flicked
our
hands
to
the
backs
of
our
heads
--
unsuccessfully
.
He
had
the
kind
of
beauty
which
defends
itself
from
any
caress
.
As
he
was
not
in
the
least
precocious
,
he
read
whatever
was
written
up
for
our
edification
without
any
comment
,
and
thought
with
that
magnificent
equanimity
(
Latin
words
come
naturally
)
that
was
to
preserve
him
from
so
many
meannesses
and
humiliations
,
that
Lucy
's
flaxen
pigtails
and
pink
cheeks
were
the
height
of
female
beauty
.
Thus
preserved
,
his
taste
later
was
of
extreme
fineness
.
But
there
should
be
music
,
some
wild
carol
.
Through
the
window
should
come
a
hunting-song
from
some
rapid
unapprehended
life
--
a
sound
that
shouts
among
the
hills
and
dies
away
.
What
is
startling
,
what
is
unexpected
,
what
we
can
not
account
for
,
what
turns
symmetry
to
nonsense
--
that
comes
suddenly
to
my
mind
,
thinking
of
him
.
The
little
apparatus
of
observation
is
unhinged
.
Pillars
go
down
;
the
Doctor
floats
off
;
some
sudden
exaltation
possesses
me
.
He
was
thrown
,
riding
in
a
race
,
and
when
I
came
along
Shaftesbury
Avenue
tonight
,
those
insignificant
and
scarcely
formulated
faces
that
bubble
up
out
of
the
doors
of
the
Tube
,
and
many
obscure
Indians
,
and
people
dying
of
famine
and
disease
,
and
women
who
have
been
cheated
,
and
whipped
dogs
and
crying
children
--
all
these
seemed
to
me
bereft
.
He
would
have
done
justice
.
He
would
have
protected
.
About
the
age
of
forty
he
would
have
shocked
the
authorities
.
No
lullaby
has
ever
occurred
to
me
capable
of
singing
him
to
rest
.
'
But
let
me
dip
again
and
bring
up
in
my
spoon
another
of
these
minute
objects
which
we
call
optimistically
,
"
characters
of
our
friends
"
--
Louis
.
He
sat
staring
at
the
preacher
.
His
being
seemed
conglobulated
in
his
brow
,
his
lips
were
pressed
;
his
eyes
were
fixed
,
but
suddenly
they
flashed
with
laughter
.
Also
he
suffered
from
chilblains
,
the
penalty
of
an
imperfect
circulation
.
Unhappy
,
unfriended
,
in
exile
he
would
sometimes
,
in
moments
of
confidence
,
describe
how
the
surf
swept
over
the
beaches
of
his
home
.
The
remorseless
eye
of
youth
fixed
itself
upon
his
swollen
joints
.
Yes
,
but
we
were
also
quick
to
perceive
how
cutting
,
how
apt
,
how
severe
he
was
,
how
naturally
,
when
we
lay
under
the
elm
trees
pretending
to
watch
cricket
,
we
waited
his
approval
,
seldom
given
.
His
ascendancy
was
resented
,
as
Percival
's
was
adored
.
Prim
,
suspicious
,
lifting
his
feet
like
a
crane
,
there
was
yet
a
legend
that
he
had
smashed
a
door
with
his
naked
fist
.
But
his
peak
was
too
bare
,
too
stony
for
that
kind
of
mist
to
cling
to
it
.
He
was
without
those
simple
attachments
by
which
one
is
connected
with
another
.
He
remained
aloof
;
enigmatic
;
a
scholar
capable
of
that
inspired
accuracy
which
has
something
formidable
about
it
.
My
phrases
(
how
to
describe
the
moon
)
did
not
meet
with
his
approval
.
On
the
other
hand
,
he
envied
me
to
the
point
of
desperation
for
being
at
my
ease
with
servants
.
Not
that
the
sense
of
his
own
deserts
failed
him
.
That
was
commensurate
with
his
respect
for
discipline
.
Hence
his
success
,
finally
.
His
life
,
though
,
was
not
happy
.
But
look
--
his
eye
turns
white
as
he
lies
in
the
palm
of
my
hand
.
Suddenly
the
sense
of
what
people
are
leaves
one
.
I
return
him
to
the
pool
where
he
will
acquire
lustre
.
'N
eville
next
--
lying
on
his
back
staring
up
at
the
summer
sky
.
He
floated
among
us
like
a
piece
of
thistledown
,
indolently
haunting
the
sunny
corner
of
the
playing-field
,
not
listening
,
yet
not
remote
.
It
was
through
him
that
I
have
nosed
round
without
ever
precisely
touching
the
Latin
classics
and
have
also
derived
some
of
those
persistent
habits
of
thought
which
make
us
irredeemably
lop-sided
--
for
instance
about
crucifixes
,
that
they
are
the
mark
of
the
devil
.
Our
half-loves
and
half-hates
and
ambiguities
on
these
points
were
to
him
indefensible
treacheries
.
The
swaying
and
sonorous
Doctor
,
whom
I
made
to
sit
swinging
his
braces
over
a
gas-fire
,
was
to
him
nothing
but
an
instrument
of
the
inquisition
.
So
he
turned
with
a
passion
that
made
up
for
his
indolence
upon
Catullus
,
Horace
,
Lucretius
,
lying
lazily
dormant
,
yes
,
but
regardant
,
noticing
,
with
rapture
,
cricketers
,
while
with
a
mind
like
the
tongue
of
an
ant-eater
,
rapid
,
dexterous
,
glutinous
,
he
searched
out
every
curl
and
twist
of
those
Roman
sentences
,
and
sought
out
one
person
,
always
one
person
to
sit
beside
.
'
And
the
long
skirts
of
the
masters
'
wives
would
come
swishing
by
,
mountainous
,
menacing
;
and
our
hands
would
fly
to
our
caps
.
And
immense
dullness
would
descend
unbroken
,
monotonous
.
Nothing
,
nothing
,
nothing
broke
with
its
fin
that
leaden
waste
of
waters
.
