" "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. The boy she had loved was gone. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. ‘I am fascinated. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature.
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