“We pretend bodies are ugly. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. I am not afraid that you may try to make love to me. Over these boards the two arms of a guide-post serve to direct the wayfarer—on the right hand to the neighbouring villages of Neasdon and Kingsbury, and on the left to the Edgeware Road and the healthy heights of Hampstead. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
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