They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. Just a friendly polite suggestion. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. I sat within a few feet of him. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava.
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