RI

as it were arranged in two parallel columns of unequal width, a wider, more diffused, eventful and various one which continually broadens out, the business s

e were temperamentally antagonistic, and we hadn't-I don't think we were capable of-an idea in common. She was young and extraordinarily conventional-she seemed never to have an idea of her own but always the idea of her class-and I was young and sceptical, enterprising and passionate; the two links that hel

the beginning of our difference. To her that meant the beginning of a not unpleasant little secrecy, an occasional use of verbal endearments, perhaps even kisses. It was something to go on indef

sed by the ignorant, unguided way in which we two entangled ourselves with each other. It seems to me the queerest thing in all this network of misunderstandings and misstatements and faulty and ramshackle conventions which makes up our social order as the individual meets it, that we should have come together so accidentally and so blindly. Because we were no more than samples of the common fate. Love is not only the cardinal fact i

h the furtive, shameful talk of my coevals at Goudhurst and Wimblehurst, I was not even warned against quite horrible dangers. My ideas were made partly of instinct, partly of a romantic imagination, partly woven out of a medley of scraps of suggestion that came to me haphazard. I had read widely and confusedly "Vathek," Shelley, Tom Paine, Plutarch, Carlyle, Haeckel, William Morris, the Bible, the Freethinker, th

ould have been a shy lover, but now she was an impossible one. For the rest she had derived, I suppose, partly from the sort of fiction she got from the Public Library, and partly from the workroom talk at Smithie's. So far as the former origin went, she had an idea of love as a state of worship and service on the part of the man and of condescension on the part of the woman. There was nothing "horrid" about it in any fiction she had re

s it was recognised, I think, that a "fellow" was a possession to be desired; that it was better to be engaged to a fellow than not; t

s flow that was hilarious rather than witty, and broken by little screams of "Oh, my dear!" and "you never did!" She was the first woman I ever met who used scent. Poor old Smithie! What a harmless, kindly soul she really was, and how heartily I detested her! Out of the profits on the Persian robes she supported a sister's family of three children, she "helped" a wor

s "A Certain Person." I was rumoured to be dreadfully "clever," and there we

in her. I think she thought me the maddest of sane men; "clever," in fact, which at Smithie's was, I suppose, the next thing to insanity, a word intimating incomprehensible and incalculable motives.... She could be shocked at anything, she misunderstood everything, and her weapo

o older than she and I couldn't see anything but that M

ort I would suppress myself for a time and continue a talk that made her happy, about Smithie's brother, about the new girl who had come to the workroom, about the house we would presently live in. But there we differed a little. I wanted to be accessible to St. Paul's or Cannon Street Station, and she had set her mind quite resolutely upon Eating.... It wasn't by any means quarreling all the t

ank Heaven! a natural refinement, a natural timidity, and her extremely slender purse kept her from the real Smithie efflorescence! Poor, simple, beautiful, kindly limited Marion! Now that I am forty-five, I can look back at her with all my old admiration and none of my old bitterness with a new a

, and afterwards her mother took to kissing me, and I bought a ring. But the speechless aunt, I gathered, didn't approve-having doubts of my religiosity. Whenever we were estranged we could keep apart for days; and to begin with, every such separation was a relief. And then I would want her; a restless longing would come upon me. I would think of the flow of her arms, of the soft, gracious be

ness. When I felt sure of my three hundred a year she stipulated for delay, twelve months' delay, "to see how things would turn out." There were times when she seemed simply an antagonist holding out irritatingly against something I had to settle. Moreover, I began to be greatly distracted by the intere

rion wasn't at home when I got there and I had to fret for a time and talk to her father, who wa

to marry me!" I said. "I think

her father. "But Marion will have her own way abo

at. "She'll want time to get he

e seat under some trees at the top of Put

aid, "are you going to m

ell," she said, "we'

or ever. Will you m

the face. "We c

rry me when I had t

. They manage on two hundred and fifty, but that's very little. She says they have a semi-detached house almost on the road, and hardly a bit of garden. And the wall

ion of the stupendous beautiful business of love by so

ed house-at Ealing, say-with a square patch of lawn i

sixty pounds a

. Yes, well, you see, I told my unc

t w

dred poun

undred

that had more than a

eally! and NOW wh

sensible! Do you really mean you've got a

rry on

surprise!" she said, and laughed at my laughter. S

es," and laughed

hands and looked

a moment before. I forgot that she had raised her price tw

is a most beautiful world, an amazingly beautiful world, and when the sunset falls upon you it makes you

ept her glad. She made me repeat my assura

house from attic-it ran to an att

said Marion. "I love Pampa

pon procedure. I refused flatly to have a normal wedding with wedding cake, in white favours, carriages and the rest of it. It dawned upon me suddenly in conversation with her and her mother, that this was implied. I blurted out my objection forthwith, and this time it wasn't any ordinary difference of opinion; it was a "row." I don't remember a quarter of the things we flung out in that dispute. I remember her mother reiterating in tones of gentle remonstrance: "But, Geo

of marriage do you want? You don't want to

d like to do. Marriage

el married," sa

ffice. I don't believe in all these fripperies and superstitions, and I

d to?" said her

egistry office," said

said. "I'll mar

ry at a regi

and tense and it amazed me, but I was al

ntly her half-averted face began to haunt me as she had sat

I

emper not coming to business," and set off for Highgate and Ewart. He was act

y's gossip. I'm rotten. There's a sympathetic sort of lunac

wart, putting

es

I told him

remarked, to clear up am

an enormously soothing day in discourse and meditation, our boat moored in a shady place this side of Windsor. I seem to remember Ewart with a cushion forward

oice. "You'd better get yourself a Millie, Po

ecidedly, "tha

d from Ewart for a while,

ter of fact we aren't anywhere. Are women property-or are they fellow-creatures? Or a sort

d, "that's

is you

el

d Ewart, i

hom I shall belong-body and soul. No half-gods! Wait till she comes.

pure person or an impure per

tly true that it si

r and she to you, Ponder

er except an i

we smoked i

f a wonderful discovery I've

aid, "wha

no Mrs.

N

y in a state of sexual panic, for example,-'For God's sake cover it up! They get together-they get together! It's too exciting! The most dreadful things are happening!' Rushing about-long arms going like a windmill. 'They must be kept apart!' Starts out for an absolute obliteration of everything absolute separat

hed ab

ts her in a most painful state of fluster-most painful! She's an amenable creature. When Grundy tells her things are shocking,

le over there whispering! Nobody ought to whisper!-There's something suggestive in the mere act! Then, pictures! In the museum-things too dreadful for words. Why can't we have pure art-with the anatomy all wrong and pure and nice-and pure fiction pure poetry, instead

bout extravagantly,

hat's one of the lies we tell about women. They're too simple.

xactly as it's put to them," he said

dy's forbidden things as there is about eating ham. Jolly nice if it's a bright morning and you're well and hungry and having breakfast in the open air. Jolly unattractive if you're off colour. But Grundy's covered it all up and hidden it and put mucky shades and covers over it until he's forgotten it. Begi

a corner and sins ugly. It's Grundy and his dark cor

cruel to fallen women and decent harmless sculptors of

pose, doesn't know

smile-like an accident to a butter tub-all over his face, being Liberal Minded-Grundy in his Anti-Puritan moments, 'trying

We don't know what we may think, what we may say, he does his silly utmost to prevent our reading and seeing the one thing, the one sort of discussion we find-quite naturally and properly-supremely interest

an almost Jack-in-t

e said, very solemnly. "Sometimes-someti

very earnestly, with his pip

test cousin he e

wart," I asked, "how would

arded the wait and made his pipe g

't a disease, a sort of bleaching under the Grundy shadow.... It is possible there are things I have still to learn about women.... Man has eaten of the Tree of Knowledge. His innocenc

d have fits!

good humbugging. It trails about-even in the best mixed company. Tugs at your ankle. The men get showing off and quarrelling-and the women. Or they're bored. I suppose the ancestral males have competed for the ancestral females e

ets on

of etiquette, perhaps."...

and went out in

ike that sort of thing. Any woman who's been to a good eventful girls' school lives on the memory of it for the rest of her life. It's one of the pathetic things about women-the superiority of school and college-to anything they get afterwards. And this city-garden of women will have beautiful places for music, places

I said,

d me with

nd there she will go and look out, when the mood takes her, and all round the city there will be a broad road and seats and great shady trees. And men will stroll up and down there when they feel the need of feminine company; when, for instance, they want to talk about their souls or

uld still b

they'd have to abide b

culties, and for a while

, "this is like

sful man laid siege to a balcony and

o difficulty about that. And you could forbid it-make it against the etiquette. No

world of a young man. "How about children?" I asked; "in the

n. The father must come with a little pony and a little gun and manly wear, and take the boy away. Then one co

dream. Let's come back to reality. What I want to know is, what

u are, Ponderevo!" and he made an abrupt end to his disco

ng just now," he r

uite diffe

ha

the Caesars. Only not heads, you know. We don'

you do i

ntury. I'll do it. Some day some one will discover it-g

it wh

ds of the flops, and the hands of the snatchers! And Grundy's loose, lean, knuckly affair-Grundy the terror!-the little wrinkles and t

ars and laughter in my throat as I read the words of her unexpected letter-"I have thought over everything, and I was selfish...." I rushed off to Walham Green that evening to give b

were m

lendour and insisted upon having a wedding breakfast sent in from a caterer's in Hammersmith. The table had a great display of chrysanthemums, and there was orange blossom in the significant place and a wonderful cake. We also circulated upwards of a score of wedges of that accompanied by silver-printed cards in which Marion's name of Ramboat was stricken out by an arrow in favour of Ponderevo. We had a little rally of

ady beginning to criticise very bitterly, to me. What was all this fuss for? The mere indecent advertisement that I had been passionately in love with Marion! I think, however, that Marion was only very remotely aware of my smouldering exasperation at having in the end behaved "nicely." I had played-up to the extent of dressing my part; I had an admirably cut frock-coat, a new silk hat, trousers as light as I could endure them-lighter, in fact-a white waistcoat, night tie, li

in flower. He wore a white rose in his buttonhole. He wasn't, I thi

s a great occasion for you-a very great

ople say, "make it out." My aunt was intensely interested, much more than my uncle; it was then, I think, for the first time that I really saw that she cared for

ifficult it was to tell her a

eautiful?" she

ou'll think of her,"

es

e the most beautiful

't she?

d, nodding my head

g from her at all. She was dressed very smartly, wearing a big-plumed hat that made her neck seem longer and slenderer than ever, and when she walked up the aisle with that rolling stride of hers and her eye all on Marion, perplexed into self-f

his day I can't say why she should have cried, and she was near crying too when she squeezed

aged spinsters, cousins of Marion's and dressmakers at Barking, stand out. They wore marvellously bright and gay blouses and dim old skirts, and had an immense respect for Mr. Ramboat. They threw rice; they brought a whole bag with them and gave handfuls away to unknown little boys at the church door and so created a Lilliputian riot; and one had meant to throw a slipper. It was a very warm old silk slipper, I know, be

ise about its aspects. I'm interested, for example, to square it with my Bladesover theory of the British social scheme. Under stress of tradition we were all of us trying in the fermenting chaos of London to carry out the marriage ceremonies of a Bladesover tenant or one of the chubby middling sort of people in some dependent country town. There a marriage is a public function with a public significance. There the church is to a large extent the gathering-place of the community, and

side of them. As I waited for Marion before we started off upon our honeymoon flig

of making conversation, and moved his head at the house op

made way for us, nobody cared for us; the driver of an omnibus jeered; for a long time we crawled behind an unamiable dust-cart. The irrelevant clatter and tumult gave a queer flavour of indecency to this publi

ienced eye of the guard detected the significance of

, "That's all over!" And I turned to Marion-a little

d me gravel

t cross?"

ss!

ng it al

y of answer took and kissed her whi

ttle fatigued and Marion had a slight headache and did not want caresses. I fell into a reverie about my aunt, and realised a

d altogether from the science, the curiosities and work to which I had once given myself, I fought my way through a tangle of traditions, customs, obstacles and absurdities, enraged myself, limited myself, gave myself to occupa

ed, as discordant, as unsystematic and self-contradictory as life. I think of this thing and love her, of that and hate her-of a hundred aspects in which I can now see her with an unimpassioned sympathy. As I sit here trying to render some vision of this infinitely confused process, I recall moments of hard a

self setting down little things and little things; none of them do more than demonstrate those essential temperamental discords I have already sought to make clear. Some readers will understand-to others I shall seem no more than an unfeeling brute who couldn't make allowances.... It's easy to make allowances now; but to be y

ery beautiful picture reflected upon the uneventful succession of grey hours

g to record, I know, but she could wear curl-papers in my presence. It was her idea, too, to "wear out" her old clothes and her failures at

r things." She pursued some limited, clearly seen and experienced ideal-that excluded all other possibilities. Over every mantel was a mirror that was draped, our sideboard was wonderfully good and splendid with beveled glass, we had lamps on long metal stalks

or change; she had taken her mould, she had set in the limited ideas of her peculiar class. She preserved her conception of what was right in drawing-room chairs and in marriage ceremon

imes she would do things for me, make me a tie or a pair of slippers, and fill me with none the less gratitude because the things were absurd. She ran ou

me. At Smithie's she was now a woman with a position; she had money to spend. She would take Smithie to theatres and out to lunch and talk interminably of the business, and Smithie became a sort of permanent weekender with us. Also Marion got a spaniel and began to dabble w

fe are embittered! My father-in-law was perpetually catching me in moody

bit with a spade, you might soon 'ave that garden of yours

eorge, why you don't get a bit of glass 'ere. This

om unexpected points of his person. "All out o' MY little bit," he'd say in exemplary tones. He left a trail of vegetable produce in t

Marion and my aunt failed to make friends,

ld arrive like a whirlwind and pervade the house with an atmosphere of hello! She dressed already with that c

ver could think to put on thicker things in cold weather. But Marion received her with that defensive suspiciousness of th

said Marion once, discussing h

said; "it

things like

er in our drawing-room one day, and how she cocked her eye-it's the only expression-at the

y she caught my expression, and shrank up like a

ked impuls

George," she insisted, lo

to the room to welcome her. But I felt extraordinarily like a traitor-t

Marion's verdict, and, open-mindedly:

t to be friends, but Marion was implacable. She was also, I know, intensely uncomfortable, and she adopted as her so

y aunt's visits gr

ities; I read endless books in trains as I went to and fro. I developed social relationships at my uncle's house that Marion did not share. The seeds of new ideas poured in upon me a

ted and difficult-until at last she was robbed of every particle of her magic. She gave me always a cooler welcome, I think, u

hoping nothing,

he heavier lines of her mouth and nostril with her moods of discontent. We drifted apart; wider and wider the gap opened. I tired of baby-talk and stereotyped little fondlings; I tired of the latest intell

tion and quintessence of the "horrid" elements in life, a disgusting thing, a last indignity that overtook unwary wom

adjustment. I would lie awake in the night, asking myself the purpose of things, reviewing my unsatisfying, ungainly home-life, my days spent in rascal enterprise and rubbish-selling, cont

me suddenly and unexpectedly, but in a

ns wandered, and I wa

I had pursued an elusive gleam of beauty to the disregard of all else, and it had failed me. It had faded when I had hoped it would grow brighter. I despaired of life and was embittered. And things happened as I am tel

. I was, I must confess, always in a faintly cloudily-emotional way aware of that collection of for the most part round-shouldered femininity, but presently one of the girls detached herself from the others and got a real hold upon my attention. I appreciate

o her and so discovered she had pretty, soft-looking hands with pink nails. Once or

ysterious free-masonry of sex to say ess

d up as I entered, and then became very still, with a downcast face and her hands clenched on the t

quite a perceptible time.

pewriters?" I asked at las

issed her lips. She leant back to put an arm about me, drew my face to her and kissed me again and a

known the quality o

e audible in t

nother with flushed faces

ered with a confident intimac

ross," she answered as intimately.

half-pa

lf-past

op opened, and she s

onplace voice, "that these n

to find her name-Effie Rink. And did no work at all that afterno

ing with an extraordinary appearance of c

there was none to overhear; we came to an understanding. It wa

I

back in her place at Raggett Street after a temporary indisposition. I did not feel in any way penitent or ashamed, I know, as I opened the little cast-iron gate that kept Marion's front grader and Pampas Grass from the wandering dog. Indeed, if anythin

though she had just turned from watching for me at the window. There was something in her pale fac

ome home,

wrote

a dusky figure again

you been?"

st," I sa

a moment. "I

as the most amazing m

id at last, "I

you come h

nd stood quite still there

e began. "How could

rval before either of

bout it?" I

other. They w

nd Crom

you bring

lant annoyance at this

ing Smithie's brothe

You... I'd always thought that anyhow you couldn't de

eems to me the most necessary consequ

passage, and went and shut the door of the room

n you to know. You've never cared for me. I've

ed armchair. "I HAVE c

ed my sh

he said, "SHE

no a

is sh

e bottom of my heart that things have come to this between us. But indeed, I'm taken by surprise. I don't know where I am-I don't know how we got here. Things took me by surprise. I found myself alon

pulled at the ball-fringe o

id. "I don't believe I c

ared and altogether inadequate. I was unreasonably angry. There came a rush of stupid expressions to my mind that my rising sense of the supreme importance of the moment saved me from say

d at the door-Marion always like

d-and vanished, lea

pped. "I will go upstairs" I repeated

nless and silent

on remarked at last, and dropped the worrie

ing Mrs. Ramboat and the spaniel. Mrs. Ramboat was too well trained in her position to remark upon our somber preoccup

een round and had an explanation with the man who

hen at the other of us. Neither of us used his name. You see we had called him

I

Marion, talking sitting on our bed in her room, talking standing in our dining-room, saving this thing or that. Twice we went for long walks. And we had a long evening alone together, with jaded nerves and hearts that fluc

we two were no longer lovers; never before had we faced that. It seems a strange thing to write, but as I look back, I see clearly that those several days were the time when Marion and I were closest together, looked for the first and last time faithfully and steadfastly into e

things that bruised and crushed and cut. But over it all in my memory now is an effect of deliberate confront

ked once, and jerked t

't know what love is. It's all sorts of things-it's

You want her now-wh

ted. "I want he

Where do

e you com

hat are you

on of the situation growing upon

else-indeed of two other people-intimately known yet judged without passion. I see now that this shock, this sudden immense disillusionment, did in real fact bring out

ride. This situation must end. She asked me categorically to give up

on," I said. "It can

ll go on living togeth

liberated "if you

, can

this house? I m

.... I don't

at do yo

oint to point, until at last th

gether we ought to b

t know how it is done. I shall have to ask somebody-or look it up...

ur divergent futures might be. I came back on the eveni

e to strike you, or something of that sort, before witnesses. That's impossible-but it's simple to desert you legally. I have to go away from you; that's all. I can go on sending you money-and you bring a suit, what is it?-for Restitution of Conjugal Rights. The Court orders me to return. I disobey. Then you

o I live? What

of my present income-more if you like-I don't mind-three hundred a ye

then you'l

h of

his life y

I haven't hated it," I lied, my voice near

rtain justice in it, and every good deed has dregs of evil. As for us, young still, and still without self-knowledge, resounded a hundred discordant n

e, nevertheless, all in their places profoundly true and sincere. I see them now as so many vain experiments in her effort to apprehend

ay again and again, "my

d retort "asking it not to be. You've done

vive all the stresses

de you wait. Well now-I sup

GE!" I

er the aspects of our

my own living,"

ndon. Perhaps I shall try a poultry farm and bees. Yo

led all tha

ou will hate

ation with absolute complacency, when she would plan

a lot with Smi

at I did indeed hate her for that

ce at all this. She n

long tearful confidences with Marion, I know, sympathetic close clingings. There were moments when only absolute speechlessness prevented her giving me a stupendous "talking-to"-I could see it in her eye. The wrong

e a thing fated and altogether beyond ou

uish. She forgot for a time the prospect of moving into a new house, she forgot the outrage on her proprietorship and pride. For the first time in her life she really showed strong em

he cried. "Oh! I d

ool. All my li

Mutney, don't leave me! Oh!

last hours together that at last, too late, the longed-for thing had ha

't leave me!" She clung to me; s

en it needed but a cry, but one word to have united us again for all our lives. Could we have united again? Would that passage have

had set going worked on like a machine, and we made no attempt to stop them. My trunks and boxes went to the station. I packed my bag with Marion standing before me. We were like ch

bye!"

od-

ittle servant in the passage going to open the door. For the last time we pressed ourselves to one another

servant, seeing that Ma

g behind me as I s

ing back, and then as it started jumped

n, but she had

uppose she r

ain for me, and our walk over the fields in the twilight. I had expected an immense sense of relief where at last the stresses of separation were over, but now I found I was beyond measure wretched and perplexed, full of the profoundest persuasion of irreparabl

of deepening gold and purple, and Effie was close beside m

e showed no resentment and no jealousy. Extraordinarily, she did not compete against

a child. She made herself my glad and pretty slave and handmaid; she forced me at last to rejoice in her. Yet at the back of it all Marion remai

ht I might be going to some sensuous paradise with Effie, but desire which fills the universe before its satisfaction, vanishes utterly like the going of daylight-with achievement. All the facts an

e first time in my life, at least so it seems to me now

ing, what was I doi

tting thoughtful in the evening sunlight on a grassy hillside that looked toward Seven Oaks and commanded a wide sweep of country, and that I was thinking out my destiny. I could almost write my thought down now, I believe, as they came to me that afternoon. Effie, restless little cockney that she was, rustled and struggled in a hedgerow below, gathering flowers, discovering flowers she had never seen before. I ha

life?" that was the qu

ent to Marion and keep to my trade in rubbish-or find some fresh one-and so work out the residue of my days? I didn't accept that for a moment. But what else was I to do? I wondered if my case was the case of many men, whether in former ages, too, men had been so guideless, so uncharted,

me and sat beside me on a little box: that

ins," s

on hand, looking out of t

wife so well?" sh

ife is a thing that hurts, my dear! It hurts without logic or reason. I've blund

nd drew her to me, a

tried Ewart and got no help from him. As I regard it all now in this retrospect, it seems to me as if in those days of disgust and abandoned aims I discovered myself for the first time. Before that I had seen onl

ies of ignorances, crude blunderings, degradation and cruelty. I had what the old theologians call a "conviction of

alism for me has always been a little bit too human, too set about with personalities and foolishness. It isn't my line. I don't like things so human. I don't think I'm blind to the fun, the surprises, the jolly little coarsenesses and insufficiency of life, to the "humour of it," as people say, and to adventure, but that isn't the root of the matter with me. There's no humour in my blood. I'm in earnest in warp and wo

hing links things for me, a sunset or so, a mood or so, the high air, something there was in Marion's form and colour, somethi

a mind beyond my merits. Naturally I resist that as a complete solution. Anyhow, I had a sense of inexorable nee

cience. I decided that in power and knowledge lay the salvation of my life,

ving in darkness, clutching at a new resolve

must have been just before the time of Marion's s

I said, "I'm

ered, and put so

s up,

s are

ho

, "it's a mess, a

rtly understand. But you're quit of her now, pract

only the part that shows. I'm sick-I

my uncle. "WH

ifferent sort of beast from you. You float in all this bunkum. I feel like a man floundering in a universe of soa

he consternati

. No! this isn't work; it's only laborious cheating. But I've got an idea! It's an old idea-I thought of years ago, but it cam

yin

like the father of a spoilt son. He fixed up an arrangement that gave me capital to play with, released me from too constant a solicitude for the

these experiments after I had sought something that Marion in some indefinable way had seemed to promise. I toiled and forgot myself for a time, and did many things. Science too has been something

incidentally I have invented th

Here among my drawings and hammerings NOW, I still question unanswering problems. All my life has been at bottom, SEEKING, disbelieving always, dissatisfied always with the thing seen and the thing believed, seeking something in toil, in force, in danger

at adventure of my uncle's career. I may perhaps tell what else remains to

iting friendly but rather uninforming letters about small bus

after London was too much for the Ramboats. They got very muddy and dull; Mr. Ramboat killed a cow by improper feeding, and that disheartened them all. A twelvemonth saw the enterprise in difficulties. I had to help her out of this, and then they returned to London and she went into partnership with Sm

in a wider world than I could have dreamt of in my Marion days. Her letters become rare and insignificant. At last came a gap of silence that made me curiou

," I said, "

horn, a leading agent in the paper-pattern trade." But she still wrote on the

lso annoyed me, is the end of Marion's history for me, and she vanishes out of this story. I do not know where she is or what she is doing. I do not know whether she

er sullen or malicious. She was-indeed she was magnificently-eupeptic. That, I think, was the central secret of her agreeableness, and, moreover, that she was infinitely kind-hearted. I helped her at last into an opening she coveted, and she amazed me by a sudden display of business capacity. She has now a typewriting bureau in Riffle's Inn, and she runs

icture to explain how I came to take up aeroplane experiments and engineering science; let me get back to my ess

THE

DAYS OF