Juliet, seated under an apple-tree in the tiny orchard that ran beside the road, looked up from her book and saw his thin face peering at her through the hedge. She smiled at him very kindly from under her flower-decked shelter.
"Of course!" she said. "Come in by all means!"
She expected him to go round to the gate, but he surprised her by going down on all fours and crawling through a gap in the privet. He looked like a monstrous baboon shuffling towards her. When through, he stood up again, a shaggy lock of hair falling across his forehead, and looked at her with eyes that seemed to burn in their deep hollows like distant lamps at night.
He stopped, several paces from her. "Sure you don't mind me?" he said.
"Quite sure," said Juliet, with quiet sincerity. "I am very pleased to see you. Wait while I fetch another chair!"
She would have risen with the words, but he stopped her with a gesture almost violent. "No—no—no!" He nearly shouted the words. "Don't get up! Don't go! I don't want a chair."
Juliet remained seated. "Just as you like," she said, smiling at him.
"But I don't think the grass is dry enough to sit on."
He looked contemptuous. "It won't hurt me. I hate chairs. I'll do as I like."
But he still stood, glowering at her uncertainly near the hedge.
"Come along then!" said Juliet kindly. "Come and sit down near me! Why not?"