Knowledge is the wing on which we fly to heaven. In this instance, the author's flight from London was via the London and South Western Railway Company's terminus. Later on he told himself that it was proving—veritably—his Waterloo.
Wivernsea's sea wall is known locally as the Esplanade. Euphemisms—sacrifices to vanity at the expense of truth—are not uncommon objects of the seashore. The walk terminated eastwards with the abruptness of a cinematograph view. A private owner claimed the land there.
It was not an undisputed claim. Opposition made the owner handle the matter with mailed fist. To make his position stronger he erected a high wall. If it did not prevent his opponents going further with their labial opposition, it effectually prevented them from going further along the parade.
The embellishments of the wall were, apparently, the outcome of deep thought. Its top was artistically embroidered with spikes and broken bottles. This sharply jagged crown was known locally as a shivery-freeze. Give the average man an opportunity to mispronounce a word and his success may be counted on every time.
Warnings to trespassers and threats of prosecution garnished the wall's face with the liberality of almonds in a piece of French rock. The everyday man might well be excused a fear that there was danger in letting an unguarded eye rest on it.
Amongst others, the wall barred the easterly progress of William Masters. In his instance no chagrin resulted. It was a boast of his that he possessed views of his own: the things which other people smile at unpleasantly and label eccentricities. The owner of the wall was a man after his own heart. Undoubtedly a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind.
It is not good that man should be alone. But the author had not yet realized the greatness of that truth. He had been heard to voice the nature of his Ultima Thule: undisturbed existence in a cot. Not beside the hill, but in the centre of a big field. The situation to be enhanced by possession of a shot gun, wherewith to pepper trespassers on his solitude.
Strangers who heard Masters speak so, felt inclination to move away a pace; were prompted to thoughts of Hanwell and Colney Hatch. His friends—another boast of his was the poverty of their number—smiled. The idea of Masters hurting a fly appealed to the humour in them.
But, as the blackest hat may have a silver-paper lining, so the wall served a good purpose. It acted as a shelter from the one thing which disturbed the enjoyment of October in Wivernsea: that wind which is said to be good for neither man nor beast. Thoughtful hands had placed a comfortable seat within the wall's shelter.
Knowledge of these things had inspired Masters' journey to Wivernsea. Where he had stayed before the landlady had rooms vacant. She knew his requirements and, hitherto, had suited him admirably. Had even acquired the knowledge that his visits to Wivernsea were not prompted solely by a desire to hear her talk!