“How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. I waited for her at the back. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. Kneebone, I'll make one of the party.
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