Whenhespokeagainitwasclearthathisformersweethearthadcleanvanishedfromhismind，andthatthetalkhadbroughtbacktheFairyLadytriumphantinhisheart。Hetalkedofher——soonhewaslettingouttheoddestthings，queerlovesecretsitwouldbetreacherytorepeat。Ithink，indeed，thatwasthequeerestthinginthewholeaffair，tohearthatneatlittlegrocermanafterhisstorywasdone，withaglassofwhiskybesidehimandacigarbetweenhisfingers，witnessing，withsorrowstill，thoughnow，indeed，withatime-bluntedanguish，oftheinappeasablehungeroftheheartthatpresentlycameuponhim。“Icouldn’teat，“hesaid，“Icouldn’tsleep。Imademistakesinordersandgotmixedwithchange。Thereshewasdayandnight，drawingmeanddrawingme。Oh，Iwantedher。Lord！howIwantedher！Iwasupthere，mosteveningsIwasupthereontheKnoll，oftenevenwhenitrained。IusedtowalkovertheKnollandrounditandroundit，callingforthemtoletmein。Shouting。NearblubberingIwasattimes。DaftIwasandmiserable。Ikeptonsayingitwasallamistake。AndeverySundayafternoonIwentupthere，wetandfine，thoughIknewaswellasyoudoitwasn’tnogoodbyday。AndI’vetriedtogotosleepthere。“
Hestoppedsharplyanddecidedtodrinksomewhisky。
“I’vetriedtogotosleepthere，“hesaid，andIcouldswearhislipstrembled。“I’vetriedtogotosleepthere，oftenandoften。And，youknow，Icouldn’t，sir——never。I’vethoughtifIcouldgotosleepthere，theremightbesomething。ButI’vesatupthereandlaidupthere，andIcouldn’t——notforthinkingandlonging。It’sthelonging……I’vetried——“
Heblew，drankuptherestofhiswhiskyspasmodically，stoodupsuddenlyandbuttonedhisjacket，staringcloselyandcriticallyatthecheapoleographsbesidethemantelmeanwhile。Thelittleblacknotebookinwhichherecordedtheordersofhisdailyroundprojectedstifflyfromhisbreastpocket。Whenallthebuttonswerequitedone，hepattedhischestandturnedonmesuddenly。“Well，“
hesaid，“Imustbegoing。“