At first they corresponded , then the letters began to grow fewer . It was his fault ; he had gradually forgotten . The new , fierce , burning interests that came into his life crowded the old ones out . Boyhood 's love was scorched up in that hot flame of ambition and contest . He had not heard from or of Joyce for many years . Now , again , he remembered as he looked down on the homeland fields . The old places had changed little , whatever he might fear of the people who lived in them . There was the school he had attended , a small , low-eaved , white-washed building set back from the main road among green spruces . Beyond it , amid tall elms , was the old church with its square tower hung with ivy . He felt glad to see it ; he had expected to see a new church , offensively spick-and-span and modern , for this church had been old when he was a boy . He recalled the many times he had walked to it on the peaceful Sunday afternoons , sometimes with his mother , sometimes with Joyce . The sun set far out to sea and sucked down with it all the light out of the winnowed dome of sky . The stars came out singly and crystal clear over the far purple curves of the hills . Suddenly , glancing over his shoulder , he saw through an arch of black fir boughs a young moon swung low in a lake of palely tinted saffron sky . He smiled a little , remembering that in boyhood it had been held a good omen to see the new moon over the right shoulder . Down in the valley the lights began to twinkle out here and there like earth-stars . He would wait until he saw the kitchen light from the window of his old home . Then he would go . He waited until the whole valley was zoned with a glittering girdle , but no light glimmered out through his native trees . Why was it lacking , that light he had so often hailed at dark , coming home from boyish rambles on the hills ?
He XXXXX anxious and dissatisfied , as if he could not go away until he had seen it .
came corresponded felt glimmered go hung remembered saw see wait