Волны

           TheyrequiresomefinalrefrigerationwhichIcannotgivethem,dabblingalwaysinwarmsolublewords.Mymethod,nevertheless,hascertainadvantagesovertheirs.NevilleisrepelledbythegrossnessofTrumble.Louis,glancing,trippingwiththehighstepofadisdainfulcrane,picksupwordsasifinsugar-tongs.Itistruethathiseyes--wild,laughing,yetdesperate--expresssomethingthatwehavenotgauged.ThereisaboutbothNevilleandLouisaprecision,anexactitude,thatIadmireandshallneverpossess.NowIbegintobeawarethatactionisdemanded.Weapproachajunction;atajunctionIhavetochange.IhavetoboardatrainforEdinburgh.Icannotpreciselylayfingersonthisfact--itlodgeslooselyamongmythoughtslikeabutton,likeasmallcoin.Hereisthejollyoldboywhocollectstickets.Ihadone--Ihadonecertainly.Butitdoesnotmatter.EitherIshallfindit,orIshallnotfindit.Iexaminemynote-case.Ilookinallmypockets.ThesearethethingsthatforeverinterrupttheprocessuponwhichIameternallyengagedoffindingsomeperfectphrasethatfitsthisverymomentexactly.’

           ’Bernardhasgone,’saidNeville,’withoutaticket.Hehasescapedus,makingaphrase,wavinghishand.Hetalkedaseasilytothehorse-breederortotheplumberastous.Theplumberacceptedhimwithdevotion."Ifhehadasonlikethat,"hewasthinking,"hewouldmanagetosendhimtoOxford.