Through the chink in the hedge I saw her kiss him. I raised my head from my flower-pot and looked through a chink in the hedge. I saw her kiss him. I saw them, J and L, kissing. Now I will wrap my agony inside my pocket-handkerchief. It shall be screwed tight into a ball. I will go to the beech wood alone, before lessons. I will not sit at a table, doing sums. I will not sit next J and next L. I will take my anguish and lay it upon the roots under the beech trees. I will examine it and take it between my fingers. They will not find me.