[Our landlord’s son] was paying court to a girl who lived near by. One day I came across the couple in the gardener’s shed, lying on top of one another and groaning as though they were in pain. I was frightened and ran away. Soon afterwards I found them seated in the kitchen drinking a glass of wine. I was afraid to ask if they were feeling better, but the incident caused me to suspect the existence of a world of which I had hitherto known nothing. To me ‘making love’ meant hand-kissing and reciting poetry. It was my first glimpse of the hollowness of appearances.