“What’s that for?” He said. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. ‘We don’t know who she is. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. Love lives on a higher plane. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world.
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