He would not have missed it for a score of other men 's lives . He had drunk of some immortal wine and was as a god . Even if she never came again , he had seen her once , and she had taught him life 's great secret in that one unforgettable exchange of eyes . She was his -- his in spite of his ugliness and his crooked shoulder . No man could ever take her from him . But she did come again . One evening , when the darkening grove was full of magic in the light of the rising yellow moon shining across the level field , Roger sat on the big boulder by the grave . The evening was very still ; there was no sound save the echoes of noisy laughter that seemed to come up from the bay shore -- drunken fishermen , likely as not . Roger resented the intrusion of such a sound in such a place -- it was a sacrilege . When he came here to dream of her , only the loveliest of muted sounds should be heard -- the faintest whisper of trees , the half-heard , half-felt moan of surf , the airiest sigh of wind . He never read Wordsworth now or any other book . He only sat there and thought of her , his great eyes alight , his pale face flushed with the wonder of his love . She slipped through the dark boughs like a moonbeam and stood by the stone . Again he saw her quite plainly -- saw and drank her in with his eyes . He did not feel surprise -- something in him had known she would come again . He would not move a muscle lest he lose her as he had lost her before . They looked at each other -- for how long ? He did not know ; and then -- a horrible thing happened . Into that place of wonder and revelation and mystery reeled a hiccoughing , laughing creature , a drunken sailor from a harbour ship , with a leering face and desecrating breath . `` Oh , you 're here , my dear -- I thought I 'd catch you yet , '' he said .
He caught hold XXXXX her .
at by for from if in like of through with