Волны

           Nowthestab,therentinmydefencesthatNevillemadewithhisastonishingfinerapier,isrepaired.Iamalmostwholenow;andseehowjubilantIam,bringingintoplayallthatNevilleignoresinme.Ifeel,asIlookfromthewindow,partingthecurtains,"Thatwouldgivehimnopleasure;butitrejoicesme."(Weuseourfriendstomeasureourownstature.)MyscopeembraceswhatNevilleneverreaches.Theyareshoutinghunting-songsovertheway.Theyarecelebratingsomerunwiththebeagles.The,littleboysincapswhoalwaysturnedatthesamemomentwhenthebrakewentroundthecornerareclappingeachotherontheshoulderandboasting.ButNeville,delicatelyavoidinginterference,stealthily,likeaconspirator,hastensbacktohisroom.Iseehimsunkinhislowchairgazingatthefirewhichhasassumedforthemomentanarchitecturalsolidity.Iflife,hethinks,couldwearthatpermanence,iflifecouldhavethatorder--foraboveallhedesiresorder,anddetestsmyByronicuntidiness;andsodrawshiscurtain;andboltshisdoor.Hiseyes(forheisinlove;thesinisterfigureoflovepresidedatourencounter)fillwithlonging;fillwithtears.Hesnatchesthepokerandwithoneblowdestroysthatmomentaryappearanceofsolidityintheburningcoals.Allchanges.Andyouthandlove.Theboathasfloatedthroughthearchofthewillowsandisnowunderthebridge.Percival,Tony,Archie,oranother,willgotoIndia.Weshallnotmeetagain.