ate that it is almost impossible to
conceive that we are actuated by any impulse which does not arise out of
a material complex.

At the back of my mind there seemed to be a thought that I could not
focus, I trembled on the verge of some great revelation that never came.

Through my thoughts there ran a thread of reverence for the intelligence
that had started my speculations. If only he could speak in terms that
I could understand.

I looked round at the Wonder. He was, as usual, apparently lost in
abstraction, and quite unconscious of my regard.

The wind was strong on the Common, and he sniffed once or twice and then
wiped his nose. He did not use a handkerchief.

It came to me at the moment that he was no more than a vulgar little
village boy.

III

There were few incidents to mark the progress of that summer. I marked
the course of time by my own thoughts and feelings, especially by my
growing submission to the control of the Wonder.

It was curious to recall that I had once thought of correcting the
Wonder's manners, of administering, perhaps, a smacking. That was a
fault of ignorance. I had often erred in the same way in other
experiences of life, but I had not taken the lesson to heart. I remember
at school our "head" taking us--I was in the lower fifth then--in Latin
verse. He rebuked me for a false quantity, and I, very cocksure,
disputed the point and read my line. The head pointed out very gravely
that I had been misled by an English analogy in my pronunciation of the
word "maritus," and I grew very hot and ashamed and apologetic. I feel
much the same now when I think of my early attitude towards the Wonder.
But this time, I think, I have profited by my experience.

There is, however, one incident which in the light of subsequent events
it seems worth while to record.

One afternoon in early July, when the sky had lifted sufficiently for us
to attempt some sort of a walk, we made our way down through the sodden
woods in the direction of Deane Hill.

As we were emerging into the lane at the foot of the slope, I saw the
Harrison idiot lurking behind the trunk of a big beech. This was only
the third time I had seen him since I drove him away from the farm, and
on the two previous occasions he had not come close to us.

This time he had screwed up his courage to follow us. As we climbed the
lane I saw him slouching up the hedge-side behind us.

The Wonder took no notice, and we continued our wa