October 1915

They are walking up and down the garden in Acacia Road. It is dusky; the Michaelmas daisies are bright as feathers. From the old fruit-tree at the bottom of the garden — the slender tree rather like a poplar — there falls a little round pear, hard as a stone. "Did you hear that, Katie? Can you find it? By Jove — that familiar sound." Their hands move over the thin moist grass. He picks it up, and, unconsciously, as of old, polishes it on his handkerchief. " Do you remember the enormous number of pears there used to be on that old tree? " " Down by the violet bed." " And how after there'd been a Southerly Buster we used to go out with clothes baskets to pick them up? " " And how while we stooped they went on falling, bouncing on our backs and heads ? " "And how far they used to be scattered, ever so far, under the violet leaves, down the steps, right down to the lily-lawn? We used to find them trodden in the grass. And how soon the ants got to them. I can see now that little round hole with a sort of fringe of brown pepper round it." " Do you know that I've never seen pears like them since? " " They were so bright, canary yellow — and small. And the peel was so thin and the pips jet — jet black. First you pulled out the little stem and sucked it. It was faintly sour, and then you ate them always from the top — core and all." " The pips were delicious." " Do you remember sitting on the pink garden seat?" " I shall never forget that pink garden seat. It is the only garden seat for me. Where is it now? Do you think we shall be allowed to sit on it in Heaven? " " It always wobbled a bit and there were usually the marks of a snail on it." " Sitting on that seat, swinging our legs and eating the pears — " " But isn't it extraordinary how deep our happiness was — how positive — deep, shining, warm. I remem- ber the way we used to look at each other and smile — do you? — ^sharing a secret . . . What was it? " " I think it was the family feeling — we were almost like one child. I always see us walking about together, looking at things together with the same eyes, discuss- ing. ... I felt that again — just now — when we looked for the pear in the grass. I remembered ruffling the violet leaves with you — Oh, that garden ! Do you remember that some of the pears we found used to have little teeth marks in them ? " " Yes." "Who bit them?" " It was always a mystery." He puts his arm round her. They pace up and down. And the round moon shines over the pear tree, and the ivy walls of the garden glitter like metal. The air smells chill . . . heavy . . . very cold. " We shall go back there one day — when it's all over." " We'll go back together." " And find everything — " "Everything!" She leans against his shoulder. The moonlight deep- ens. Now they are facing the back of the house. A square of light shows in the window. " Give me your hand. You know I shall always be a stranger here." " Yes, darling, I know." " Walk up and down once more and then we'll go in." " It's so curious — my absolute confidence that I'll come back. I feel it's as certain as this pear." " I feel that too." " I couldn't not come back. You know that feeling. It's awfully mysterious." The shadows on the grass are long and strange; a puff of strange wind whispers in the ivy and the old moon touches them with silver. She shivers. " You're cold." "Dreadfully cold." He puts his arm round her. Suddenly he kisses her — " Good-bye, darling." " Ah, why do you say that ! " " Darling, good-bye . . . good-bye ! "