She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ’ ‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. Wood. Rich folks, once. They got on wonderfully well together. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months.
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