-Whew! Mew really slade me with rhall that silli stuffabout Sandy but yes I, keen as must ardegree it makes a Goodbody of work to be shore and yes I, quite liked the bit about Carolime finding the Solution (what was it by the way?) trickly ickly Cynically that'd be ooh ah I. I must confess I'm finding all this about rocks a but hard.

-Yes well I. Daresay it would be it being about rocks and all but I. Now, what about Miles A. Grit? 'S Grail time!

-Anag! You mean at last we've got to Lay it on But hard? On top of Carolyne?

-Orogenetically, as she on Toby Sandylyne. Carol lyin on Sandy, Grail time's on Carolyme, oh, a grail time was had by all. Oh, and the denudation! (More of that later, the tipping and the tilting and the fondling and the feeling, just you weight on.) But now we're into position to see them clear to sea and whole.

-What's he like then?

-A gamma miners man. Worse than that. Deltaic.

-He namur is. Thick, is he?

-Two thousand feet!

-How he got into coalage I'll never.

-Well, he's industrialous and anywhy, his mews lade him on.

-That's Cynthylime.

-Ah, but are we sure?

-Swansea beach.

-She told the traeth?

-Ydy.

-Well? What was the Solution?

-The Westron Wind blows buffeting in off the Lundies all wettit she is and 0.03% of atmospheric sea, oh too full of carbonic I said CO²(g) + H²O ­­» H²CO³(aq) not to mention sulphuric and sulphurous and other acids blowing buffily puffily as the tall chimneys point refinedly at Haven, they stand to attention and give her a smart pollute as she passes: the small rainwater down can rain Christ if my love were in my arms and I in my well bedded and jointed, cracked and faulted, drinking it damnably down it dissolves her away in compound time and tide...

-This no Solution: social irrelevance! All this deeply humane geocrappy! Get down to the naughty gritty!

-Oh you! Walk about ivied towers 'n' dream inspired cloistered choirts all the day long, pass by on the other side of the quad, would you? Theatre's a parliament, audience a legislative body, so up yer aesthetic arse.

-Mere parrot clockings. Polly ticks.

-History of Mr. Grit deeply involved our dustrous heritage.

-Well. Westron riding under the banner of the White Rose their quarry was he. Sharp were the long swords of the house of York!

-Get on with it. What was he like in bed?

-Certain beds were long since worked to provide grindstones for their knives and cyllyll.

-Gesundheit!

-Diolch. But swords into ploughshares peacemeal purposes too. His name doth derive from his useful coarseness and toughness, the grains rough and angular grinding the grains into flour. Singing: Thou visitest the earth...

-What?

.......and blessess tit. And crownest the year, the year with thy goodness. Thou makest it soft...

-In the head.

......with the drops of aitchtwo seeoh three being an aqueous Solution or shall we keep it simple, rain. The valleys also shall stand so thick with corn that they shall laugh and sing. And the little hills, ororiginally big hills but after weathering erosion, freeze-thaw et cetera not to mention glacial denudation...

-Excuse me, where is this leading us?

.......the little hills shall read Joyce on every side.

-Finnegished?

-Greene.

-Jack? Jack O' th'-?

-No no no. Praise God for that a small rain doth kindly rain, enviro mental issues!

-Bless you again! Well, that's very laudable. But thick, with corn is he?

-Hoorelloorelaugh and sing- Dr Maurice dancing on the Greene, 1695-1765. Not averse to a little anthem.

-But what, I ask you, is the connection?

-You want me to....?

-Only connect.

-If Em Forced ter Layiton But hard: he is the organ grinder, coarse corn dolly rain meads far sown loude he sang at harvest time. A ruffed little boy he was then of coarse; now, grown up to man's estate he's grinding her down, poor Cynthia Cornidoll.

-Her again! Snapped her knickerelastic did he? That's a fumbling fault to be sure. His Nicholaston fault.

-Just a minute. he's grinding her down? But I thought...

-Oh it all depends on your point of view. That's just it, in fact, a point of view, that's what caused the trouble...

-Well go on then, old chap, out with it.

-Lewdness and lust, Henry, lewdness and lust. Not that I'm averse to a little...

-Quite...

-....indeed there has been between us no little loveplay. Her body, Henry, her body is, is...

-Mn.

-Precisely. But we have not been, been all the ah way.

-No?

-Indeed not because from my point of view that would commit me, her, us... to a relationship of an er of a permanent nature.

-Is there, my dear Leighton, such a thing as a relationship of a permanent nature?

-Permanent? I think so. She doesn't agree, I think. But is more ready for, is more certain, thinks I think that I ah cerebralise ah

-You do.

-It's getting us both down. We've talked it over. She's had enough talk, she says.

-You know what you should do.

-What should I do?

It is not easy to make rutting movements sitting on a hard chair but resourceful Henry uses non-verbal communication here to make his point

-Henry, that's disgusting.

-Where is she now?

-I don't know. Not in her room.

Henry yawns, and goes to the dark window. Across the quad, a red light gleamsome curtained window is lit up. Goodbody's.