He watches her as she swings. Which is perhaps an unpleasant thing to do, isn't it? Not many ladies treasure the thought of their ex-lover leering at them as they idly enjoy the pleasures of their childhood home. No matter who added that particular enhancement to that home. As a matter of fact, most ladies would probably run shrieking from the thought, lest said ex-lover have a knife he's about to use out of some vengeful impulse. Because most ladies are sensible.

But here he is, leering, like a demon or a ghost of the past - or, no, that's too grandiose. Like a mouth-breathing pervert out to get a glance at a girl's knickers. So he decides, after a moment, that he simply can't go on like this utter monster. And so he shucks his coat and shirt and charges right past her, diving into the ice-cold pond spread before the swing.