Читать книгу Twentieth Century Men - Richard Wilson - Страница 7

Chapter One

India

In 1888 Liverpool was a thriving port city with a population of about 600,000 and a rapidly growing trade through its port, based largely on the import of raw cotton, dead meat, corn and cereals, and the export of cotton goods and iron and steel products. George Richard Wilson, born at 2 Rose Hill, Liverpool in July 1852 later lived at 98 Whetstone Lane, Tranmere in the Wirral with his wife Louisa, born in Macclesfield, and their three children, Louisa (born 1880), Arthur (born 1884) and Elsie (born 1885).

In 1888, Leonard was born at a house in Whetstone Lane, on 12 March and he was later followed by Frank (born 1891) and Alexander. Their father, George, was the manager of a fruit broking business, a business which was to occupy him for many years to come.

This was a fairly typical, moderately wealthy, Victorian family of the time, in the world of traders and businessmen. There was a long-term expectation that the girls would all meet and marry eligible and moderately wealthy men, and that the boys would all find work in industry or the financial sector. The advent of the first world war was to dramatically alter all their expectations.

In the short term however, trade continued to be satisfactory for George Wilson’s business of fruit trading and he was able to afford the private schooling and sporting facilities available at the nearby Birkenhead School that had been founded in 1860, which was close to where the family lived in Birkenhead. Leonard, and shortly afterwards Frank, were both sent to the school where they enjoyed successful careers, both in the classroom and on the playing field. Leonard’s collection of leather-bound book prizes included the Modern 5th Form Prize, in 1903, signed by the Headmaster, G. Griffen and entitled “Napoleon”, and the Form II, First in Form Prize at the Birkenhead Institute, at Christmas 1906, signed by the Headmaster W.S. Connachie, who founded the Institute and was its first Headmaster. The book was entitled “The Life of Nelson”.

Sport, for Leonard, was an important part of his life, both at school, and subsequently when he was at Liverpool University. He enjoyed all sports but particularly rugby union, at which sport he played for Birkenhead Park and Cheshire. At Liverpool University he studied for, and earned, his Bachelor of Engineering (BEng) degree, and on completion, he applied for and was given employment with Marsland Price and Company, initially on a large project in Bombay India, which involved travelling to India at the earliest opportunity as the project had already commenced.

After a series of farewells to his family and friends in Cheshire, including some golf at the Wirral with his friends the Smethursts, whose daughter Muriel had caught his eye, it was time for Leonard to make his way to London to catch the SS Oceana bound for Bombay, under Captain J.D. Andrews RHR. These P and O (Peninsular and Orient) sailings were already beginning to earn the description of “the fishing fleet” as single daughters were sent out to India to find husbands. The “list of passengers” for Leonard’s trip showed that there were a total of 243 passengers on board (plus infants and maids), of which 82 were single men (including Leonard), 35 were single women and there were a further 22 married women who were travelling alone. Between leaving London on Wednesday 2 November and the arrival in Bombay approximately three weeks later, there was much social activity on board ship.

In Bombay he joined up with his employer, Marsland Price and Company, where he was an Assistant Engineer under Mr Price, working on a project for The Standard Oil Company of New York. The project involved “The erection of factory – storage sheds, Managers Bungalows and extensive enclosure walling costing between two and three lakhs of Rupees … on their new Buick Oil Installation Works.” Interesting though the project was, Leonard sought longer-term work and as the project reached its conclusion, he was given a strong reference from the Attorney at the Standard Oil Company, which confirmed that Leonard “took charge of the work at the most critical stage and I am glad to say he brought everything to completion most satisfactorily. He has good organising ability and is a capable engineer.” It had also been a good opportunity for Leonard to settle into life in Bombay, while starting to learn the local language.

In the short period between leaving Marsland Price and Company in March 1912 and starting work with the GI & PR (Great and Peninsular Railway), Leonard continued to stay at the Villa Ghita in Bombay and spent a few days getting to know this bustling city. He also needed time to buy the furniture necessary for his unfurnished bungalow in Kalyan. A visit to Alabur Sonji Dossa at 5–7 Chuckla Street enabled him to acquire, for a total of R157/- (£ 11.80), a good starting pack, the main elements being:

	Rs
Dressing table with glass attached	25.0
Easy chair	15.0
Dresser with two drawers	15.0
Commode with pan	5.0
2 armchairs	14.0
2 camp tables	16.0
Towel stand	3.0
Writing table	15.0
Bathtub	8.0
Washing stand	3.0
Cupboard	30.0
Other	11.0
	160
Less	3
Rs	157
Plus, Coolie Hire	2

Writing to his friend Muriel in England, Leonard noted that the weather was already getting very hot, particularly up country at Kalyan, prior to which he was going to treat himself to “dining at the Taj Mahal Hotel here in Bombay, and as the mail has just arrived there will be many fresh people there … and a dance. PS I have become an expert digger driver.”

Shortly afterwards, on 24 April 1911, Leonard joined the GI & PR Railway as an Assistant Engineer, just after his twenty-fourth birthday, at the “Kalyan Remodelling Works”.

The Great Indian Peninsula Railway Company was incorporated in London on 2 August 1849 with an initial share capital of £ 50,000. Later that month, the Company entered into a contract to build a thirty-five-mile railway line, the first stage of which was between Bombay and Thaka. This line, built for the East India Company which at that stage administered the country on behalf of Britain, under the Government of India Act, was the first passenger railway line to be built in India. The management of the GI & PR was taken over by the government in July 1925 and ultimately, the business was incorporated into the Central Railway in 1951.

Leonard’s starting salary on this Kalyan project was Rs400 (£ 30.00) per month, including free accommodation in his small, unfurnished bungalow. Writing to Muriel from this bungalow, he noted on 12 May that: “I have a splendid job and hold a most responsible position, working from seven a.m. to seven p.m. with an occasional Sunday off (going into Bombay to see my old friends there).” He was keen to maintain his personal discipline despite the solitude, saying, “I always dress for dinner, just to pretend I am still in civilisation.” Six weeks later, writing on a Friday he noted that it was “English mail day and the home letters arrive here and are read and re-read with much interest.” But the sense of loneliness was increasing. “After dinner I lie on a long chair on the verandah very close to a long drink and watch the moonshine on the Palace and listen to the pie dogs howling as they do here all night long. Also, I can hear the monotonous chanting of the natives in camp in the neighbourhood of my bungalow.” The weather was extremely hot and not due to break for another week or two. It was all a real challenge, and so different from life in the Wirral.

At work, he was now an Assistant Engineer on the Kalyan Junction Station remodelling project for the GI & PR under Mr F.J. Preston. “Costing about £ 470,000 (1911 value) the project involved heavy earthwork, the construction of a loco shed, up and down receiving and departure lines, and a shunting yard. The work also included the erection of a new passenger station building with platforms and overbridges; twenty-five miles of track we’re laying (sic) and one overbridge for a public road, one 20’ span overbridge carrying two tracks, a 30’ underbridge for the public road; also two stonework arched culverts – across the full width of the yard; also construction of a hospital with one hundred and ten sub-quarters and one hundred and twenty menial quarters with a service road.”

By the end of this happy, if lonely year, Leonard was well settled into a routine of busy weeks, occasional Saturday night dances at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay with friends, writing weekly letters home, tennis at the Recreation Club in Bombay and working to pass the test of proficiency in Hindustani which was the prerequisite of becoming a “Permanent Cadre” employee.

He remained in charge of the Kalyan remodelling scheme throughout 1912 and 1913, until he was granted three months leave as from July 1914 – a massive project for a young man who was still only 27 when he boarded the SS China which left Bombay on Thursday 11 July 1914, bound for London, via Brindisi, Marseilles and Plymouth, arriving on 1 August. This time the passenger list was predominantly male, many of them military.

The England to which he returned was coming to terms with the implications of the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, in Sarajevo, on 28 June. Britain declared war on 4 August, three days after Leonard’s arrival home in the Wirral and the mood in the country was sombre. His holiday was spent almost entirely at home, although he briefly met up with his friend Muriel Smethurst and her parents. During a joint family trip to Chester, Leonard and Muriel “disappeared” and “our respective parents though we were lost.” He saw her again when she “came round for a picture of Frank which was printed in the news. I hear he is a great fine man now – finer than before but I can hardly believe such to be possible. You know I always admire Frank – he is such a splendid man in every way.” They also managed a game of golf together.

He had little opportunity to travel more widely and, because she was anxious about Leonard’s health, his mother encouraged him to stay at home and rest, with his brothers visiting when they were able to. Very soon it seemed to all, he had to return to India, back to the Kalyan project, at a salary of Rs500 but still not a permanent employee of the GI & PR.

In December 1914, he was transferred to Harbour (Bombay Works District No. 1) but his work at the Kalyan Station was such that, throughout his ongoing career in India, and even in retirement he was known to his friends as “Kalyan”. The Superintending Engineer, R.V. Symons; wrote to the GI & PR Chief Engineer, Mr P.E. Keene, that: “Mr Wilson has done a very good work for the Company and is never sparing in his efforts to do his best and to be thorough. He has had no increment since 1 May 1913. The good work done by him deserves special recognition and I have much pleasure in recommending him for an increase”.

As the year ended, Leonard settled into his new job and his new accommodation at 14 Cuffe Parade, Bombay, away from the heat and dust of Kalyan. His mother, writing on 31 December 1914 stated, “This is New Year’s Eve and I hope we shall see a happier ending than the beginning is, and a victorious one with the foes beaten … I do long for you to be well and strong. We have not seen Frank … Arthur went away last Thursday and has not written since.”

Leonard’s father wrote on the same day, noting that: “the uppermost thought in one’s mind is the future of the boys serving their country. We do wish their protection and good fortune in returning to us at the end of the war, safe and sound. Frank is moving to Cambridge … I feel he will be the first to go to the front. The near outlook is far from cheery for an early termination, although the final issue is pretty safe from our point of view now.” And finally, back to business, he noted that: “we are actually to have Jaffa mangoes through growers in Turkey – by undertaking to pay the proceeds to the government till the termination of the war when they will return the money to be given to the shippers.”

As ever, Leonard embraced the challenge of the Bombay Harbour project with all his energy and determination, buoyed by the news that, on 11 July 1914, his request for “Permanent Cadre” in the Grade of Assistant Engineers’ was granted, albeit without any increase in salary which remained at Rs500 per month. The project itself was another large one with “a cost of about £ 500,000. This two-mile extension of double track passed through a densely populated area of Bombay and was carried over five public roads and Wade Sundi goods yard … The work included the lengthening of three public overbridges, the construction of three new stations and an additional island platform under the existing station.”

Being in the centre of Bombay greatly improved his social life which continued to include dances and dinners at the Taj Mahal Hotel, and activities social and sporting, with “my old friends”. That continued until May 1916 when he was transferred to Shahabad, by which time he was in charge of the Bombay section as well as the Harbour section. He began to develop a long-term interest in horses. Writing to his friend Muriel in December 1915 he congratulated her “on being a nurse in these times. Women in all forms of work are showing up well in this war, but one always thinks that as a nurse, a woman does the finest work, …” He also notes that in addition to his usual job, he was “a volunteer in the Bombay Light horse as we are able to do this in the early morning. I have just finished a fortnight in camp; up at 5.30, work till 8.30 then bath, change and come to Bombay for the everyday railway work … I ride every morning now and find the exercise does me much good.” Two days later, he wrote that: “I have joined the Jackal Club and hope to get two days hunting a week. We have a new pack … and hunt from December to March … our substitute for the fox is the jackal. How long it is since I saw you and yet so many things have happened since …”

Two months later he wrote again to Muriel, on 26 February 1916, noting that she had had a three-day holiday in Cairo. On the other hand, he had been out hunting where “my horse came down at a jump … but fortunately did himself no damage. I skinned my face and had to have my chin stitched up, so temporarily spoiling my beauty, but no joints were damaged.”

Leonard’s brother Frank, who he so greatly admired, wrote to him almost weekly, in pencil on a small piece of paper. Inevitably, there was no complaining about conditions in the trenches.

Writing on 17 May 1916 from his trench at First Kings Regiment, BEF, France he wrote that:

“We finish our months tour of trenches in a day or two …”

Writing again on 30 May he wrote that:

“… we are living in an old Hun dug-out – though our one mattress (apologetic and far from clean) causes many sanguinary contests each night; it can just hold two (human beings), so they refuse to let me near it, as there is only room for me alone. After stopping up all the rat holes, there is always a ‘strop’ – one man objecting to having someone else’s feet up against his face or some other absurd triviality. One man woke the rest of us up last night by trying to do for a rat which had burrowed out under his head – shouts for his ejection!”

Both of these letters to Leonard were overtaken by the telegram from his father on 6 June:

“Frank has died for his country” – Wilson

This telegram followed on immediately after the delivery of a telegram to 70 Grosvenor Road, Claughton, Birkenhead where the family now lived.

It was sent from Buckingham Palace, and read:

“The King and Queen deeply regret the loss you and the Army have sustained in the death of Second Lieut. F. Wilson in the service of his country. Their Majesties truly sympathise with you in your sorrow. Keeper of the Privy Purse”.

His school thereafter published the following obituary which was mirrored by a much longer obituary in the local press at home. It read as follows:

“Frank Wilson, third son of George R. Wilson of Birkenhead was killed in action on Vimy Ridge on 3 June 1916. He entered the School in 1902 and left in 1908, being a School Prefect in his last year. He played for Birkenhead Park and Cheshire Football XVs. After leaving school he was with the firm of T & J Harrison, Shipowners, until the outbreak of War. In August 1914 he joined the ranks of the 4th Cheshires and after attaining his commission he was drafted out to the Western Front, attached to the 1st King’s Liverpool Regiment. He was ‘mentioned in despatches’ in January 1917.”

His Commanding officer wrote (to his parents):

“I was very grieved at your son’s death and send you some particulars of how it occurred. The Germans exploded a camouflet in which were four miners and men, and your son immediately descended, and was the means of saving all, but at the expense of his own life, being past human aid when brought to the surface. Our medical officer attempted artificial respiration for two and a half hours, but your son was too badly poisoned. I consider your son behaved very gallantly, and I have recommended him for the VC which in my opinion he deserved, and which I hope he will get. His death is a great loss to the regiment: he always did his work particularly well.”

In the event there was no VC, but, after the war ended a certificate was issued from the War Office, Whitehall SW, on 1 March 1919. It read as follows:

“In the War of 1914 – 1918

Liverpool Regiment

Second Lt. F. Wilson, Third Bn (SR) (Killed)

was mentioned in a despatch from General Douglas Haigh GCB, KCIE, KCVO, ADC

dated 13 November 1916

for gallant and distinguished services in the Field

I have it in command from the King to record His Majesty’s

high appreciation of the services rendered.

Winston S. Churchill

Secretary of State for War.”

Frank was buried at the British Cemetery at Cabaret Rouge.

However proud he felt about his younger brother Frank and his courage and bravery, Leonard was devastated by his death. Writing to Muriel on 20 July 1916, by which time he had been transferred to Shahabad, and away from the comfort of Bombay, which he knew so well, he was honest about his emotions. “I admired Frank and loved him, he was a splendid man, mentally and physically and out of his strength he wrote me practically every mail during the past six years; letters of cheer which always did me good, his last letter was dated three days before his death. He died as he lived, for others, and as the good book tells us, this is the greatest thing a man can do.

“I was absolutely unbalanced on hearing of his death … I applied to the Chief Engineer to let me go as I felt unable to stay here any longer … but the Chief replied to say he would not let me go as we are about thirty percent short of staff and can’t reduce further. Before leaving Bombay I had the job of converting our new Bombay offices into a hospital for 500 beds after which I came down here to Shahabad as my work on reconstructing of the overhead line was stopped for want of steelwork from England and we were shorthanded here. Shahabad is three hundred and seventy miles from Bombay and is in the Nizam of Hyderabad’s dominions. I have a section to maintain, a hundred and thirty miles long … I spend about ten to fifteen days per month on the line trolleying one way and travelling by train the other … when in Shahabad the only thing I have to do besides work is horse riding. I have my bay horse here and am keeping the grey in Bombay until I can sell him … to get home in 1918 when I will have some seventeen months of furlough due. Some of the Mohamedans here have an idea that the Germans are Mohamedans and say that if the Germans win the war, it will be good for the Mohamedans in India.”

Leonard was, by now, the Resident Engineer in Shahabad and in addition to his role maintaining the mainline railway he was “also in charge of the one-mile-long diversion of the main line at Shahabad, including reconstruction of the underbridge … 3 x 60ft spans on masonry abutments with concrete below, water and steel above. Also, regarding the bridge over the river, 10 x 70’ spans, 5 x 60’ spans … located and prepared preliminary estimates for 8 new crossing stations.”

In his letter to Muriel dated 10 October, Leonard noted that while trolleying he had now taken to carrying a gun, a Martins.303, in the hope of shooting a game bird to take home, thus far without success. He was having to learn Canarese to speak to the local people in the Deccan, as opposed to Hindustani in Bombay and Kalyan. Above all, he was looking forward to some holiday time as he had only had the three months furlough in 1914, since arriving in India in 1910.

These thoughts of home leave were pushed aside by the news that, on 16 September in France, Muriel’s brother John Smethurst had been killed in action. In his last letter, to his sister Muriel on 11 September, he was proud to note that: “we just woke the old Bosch up a little last week as no doubt you saw in the paper. The GOC Division congratulated and thanked us after Church Parade yesterday … My servant was hit and the one I got in his place was killed too. A fine fellow too.”

John’s friend on the battle front, Fred Canley, wrote that: “we marched to the trenches at dawn on the sixteenth. Dear old ‘Smithers’ (his battalion pet name) was very happy and cheerful, and I think he was looking forward to another scrap, despite the fact that only ten days before he had received a rough time at Guillemont. At about eleven a.m. I received word to send my Company forward, and he took command at the first attacking wave. Despite the heavy rifle, machine gun, and shellfire, he very bravely led his men on, but unfortunately, he never reached his objective, as he was killed by a machine gun bullet midway. He died where he fell, his death being instantaneous. We were compelled to leave him until dark, and a couple of men from his platoon volunteered, and went out to bury him. I have informed his parents how to obtain the spot of his grave.

“He was a man to be proud of and his memory should be proud. I really mean it, and probably I have seen him under circumstances strange to you. He never shirked a job, no matter how dangerous it happened to be, and his constant thought was for the care and welfare of his men, who loved him. I am sure of this as I heard many pathetic things not intended for my ears. I can’t tell you how much I Miss him.

“He has made the greatest sacrifice man can make – he gave up his life, his all.”

Back in the Deccan, Leonard continued to keep himself fit by riding out every morning before work, seven miles most days, with fifteen miles on Sundays. Christmas day in 1916 was spent with his friend Clapham in the jungle looking at the animal and bird life – trying to divert his mind from the sad events of the year. A letter from his mother dated 8 January 1917 brought news of a missionary friend in Nyasaland returning home after two years “as his health is somewhat impaired.”

“Gadzooks,” he responded “I wish my service allowed leave every two years when health is impaired.” That said, “we are having a most unusually severe year of plague and people are dying like flies. The villages are vacated, and the people live in the jungle, plague rats and I suppose other animals are dying in the villages, which are, in consequence stinking badly, and no one goes near to clean the passages or houses. The GIP is sending (or has been asked to do so) a Ry Corps for Ry work to France. I and most engineers applied … The difficulty is to get the coolie labour to volunteer, they are so scared by such news they hear of the war; they would prefer to stay here and die of plague rather than go to France on triple pay.” The plague Leonard refers to was, in fact, the ‘Spanish Flu’ epidemic with “a virus strain subtype H1N1” which is estimated to have killed over 50 million people worldwide, probably spread, at least in part, by troops returning from Europe to their home countries, at the end of the war.

In March, Leonard had to take ten days leave to attend a Bombay Light Horse camp, having sent his horses in advance. Staying at the Royal Bombay Yacht Club he enjoyed the camp, not least of all because the temperature was twelve degrees cooler than the Deccan and he was able to meet up with old friends. This volunteer force was disbanded on 21 March and absorbed into the Indian Defence Company, subject to call up at any time. This force came into being on 1 April.

Shahabad, in June, was “a desert of black mud, a station building and a few bungalows …” The tedious routine of his railway responsibilities was rudely and tragically interrupted by a bad train collision on his section, seventy miles south of Shahabad, in which five people were killed (another four died later) and forty-two injured when the driver ran through a signal at four a.m. in the dark. Rebuilding the line, clearing away damaged railway stock and re-establishing the train service occupied him for many days. He was also working hard on “surveying some days and working others in my drawing office getting out detailed plans and estimates for the eight proposed new stations.” He had also been to Poona “in order to attend the Bombay congress which was held in Poona and for which I had written a paper on Mortar.” He was by now a full private in the 1st Battalion GIP Railway Rifles, Indian Defence Force. When not occupied with these activities he played tennis in the evenings with his local Traffic Officer and two native officials at the Native Club. “I quite like Mohamed Habibuka, the Takundar of Shahabad though I curse him ‘some’ when I have to deal with him officially in such cases as land acquisition. He says he rides and plays tennis and bezique beautifully, but as regards the first he never comes out for a ride … he is rather a weak tennis player and I know nothing of bezique. He tells me he has three wives so he can’t be very well off or he would have several more.”

As 1917 came to an end Leonard was very busy preparing for days of a fete in aid of the Red Cross on the last three Thursdays of the month, and also for “the visit of the Viceroy who breakfasts in Shahabad on the 23rd inst. with some of HM the Nizam’s officials. A camp for this breakfast is being put up on the open ground opposite my bungalow.”

For Leonard, thoughts of home were always present, albeit with few real prospects of this happening in the short term. The problem was that, in his own words, “I think the Chief is glad to find a man who will stick the place without grumbling. Most of our engineers are married and no married couple would stick Shahabad. I wonder how long it will be before we meet again. I suppose not until after the war.” Routinely applying for leave, his requests were invariably refused to his great disappointment, particularly as, in late 1918, his mother’s health was a concern.

The death of his mother in November 1918, although not unexpected, was another blow to Leonard. “This is a great loss to us all. I have never met anyone who lived a more loving and unselfish life than Mother,” he wrote to Muriel. “I had hoped to get home to see Mother once more, but the war had effectively put a stop to all leave, except of course for those who had influence. I have applied for leave from April next for nine weeks.” By way of getting a break from Shahabad he took fourteen days casual leave over Christmas and New Year, “first visiting Bombay and spending five days riding over hunting country with my old friend Pearson whose guest I was. Then I went on to Agra and Delhi and visited all the world-famous buildings there. The Taj Mahal is a marble building, built by King Shah Jahan about two hundred and fifty years ago, as a resting place for his wife after her death. It is said to be the most beautiful building in the world.

“I boast I can stick a lonely life in a station like Shahabad when there are some of the amenities of civilisation, but I confess I enjoyed the luxury of fires, hot baths, good food and company in the best hotel in Delhi” with his old friend Cafferata – “he is a great man, and I found the usual pleasure in his company.”

Back in Shahabad he had an extra two hundred and fifty miles of main line track, to oversee due to Manson, the resident engineer there “having taken home a very sick wife.” Muriel too was extremely busy in England nursing and helping the injured and provided “splendid and continuous war service according to the Christ Church (Claughton) Monthly Paper.”

Leonard’s own health was beginning to suffer from a mixture of a much-increased workload, the lack of rest, and the extreme heat of Shahabad where the day temperature was one hundred and five in the shade, falling to ninety at night. The railway carriage he lived in had no air conditioning other than open windows. “I’m afraid I am not anything like as strong as I was,” he wrote. In July he “had an attack of dysentery which had left me absurdly weak, and the Railway had realised that a live Engineer on leave is more useful than a dead one in India.”

Planning to get away in August, he had to dispose of his horses and his two hunting dogs and put his furniture in storage before he could set sail. He was further concerned about his finances, given that his most recent salary increase on 14 August 1919 took him to Rs700 per month, but with depreciation compared with the pound and significant inflation in England, this was going to mean that he would not be able to afford a motor vehicle and may have to live at home if there was any space. Home by now was no longer in the spacious house in Birkenhead, but in Llandudno, his father having retired from his fruit trading business. On the other hand, with Leonard’s mother having passed away, his beloved brother Frank dead, another brother Arthur “put away in a home in Llandudno” and Alec in Germany, there could be a space in the house he had yet to see. He also needed to book his berth on a P & O liner to London or “with Anchor or City which I believe land one in Liverpool.”

On his return to Bombay on 15 August, Leonard stayed at Villa Ghita with his friend Person while booking his passage home to Marseille and then across France to London, hoping to arrive in London on or about 10 September. “Order some decent weather please, not too cold,” he wrote to Muriel. On arrival in Llandudno, he wrote to Muriel on 15 September having played golf with his father that morning. “Please think and fix up what we should do on Thursday, just anything you like will suit me. I am wondering whether you and I will find each other changed much and hope not.”

Things were to happen very quickly thereafter.