IV
Peter was now conscious of the world. That was Exeter that they had left
behind them and soon there would be Plymouth and then the crossing of the
bridge and then--Cornwall!
Cornwall! His lips were dry--he touched them with his tongue, and knew,
suddenly, that he was thirsty, more thirsty than he had ever been. He would
never be hungry again, but he would always be thirsty. An attendant passed.
What should he drink? The attendant suggested a whisky and soda. Yes ... a
large whisky....
It was very long indeed since he had been in Cornwall--he had not been
there since his boyhood. What had he been doing all the time in between? He
did not know--he had no idea. This new tenant of the house was not aware
of those intervening years, was only conscious that he was returning after
long exile, to his home--Scaw House, yes, that was the name ... the house
with the trees and the grey stone walls--yes, he would be glad to be at
home again with his father. His father would welcome him after so long an
absence.
The whisky and soda was brought to him and as he drank it they crossed the
border and were in Cornwall.
V
They were at Trewth, that little station where you must change for Treliss.
It stood open to all the winds of heaven, two lines of paling, a little
strip of platform, standing desolately, at wistful attention in the heart
of gently breathing fields, mild skies, dark trees bending together as
though whispering secrets .
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