She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet. . I want to hear how she does it. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. She cried out with the pain of it.
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