the general effect which she wished to produce of a family；
eccentric and limited； perhaps； but not dull。 Edward；
she perceived； was rolling the lawn； for the sake of exercise；
and the sight of him； with pink cheeks； bright little
brown eyes； and a general resemblance to a clumsy young
carthorse in its winter coat of dusty brown hair； made
Mary violently ashamed of her ambitious scheming。 She
loved him precisely as he was； she loved them all； and as
she walked by his side； up and down； and down and up；
her strong moral sense administered a sound drubbing to
the vain and romantic element aroused in her by the mere
thought of Ralph。 She felt quite certain that； for good or
for bad； she was very like the rest of her family。
Sitting in the corner of a thirdclass railway carriage；
on the afternoon of the following day； Ralph made several
inquiries of a mercial traveler in the opposite
corner。 They centered round a village called Lampsher；
not three miles； he understood； from Lincoln； was there a
big house in Lampsher； he asked； inhabited by a gentleman
of the name of Otway？
The traveler knew nothing； but rolled the name of Otway
on his tongue； reflectively； and the sound of it gratified
Ralph amazingly。 It gave him an excuse to take a letter
from his pocket in order to verify the address。
“Stogdon House； Lampsher； Lincoln；” he read out。
“You’ll find somebody to direct you at Lincoln；” said
the man； and Ralph had to confess that he was not bound
there this very evening。
“I’ve got to walk over from Disham；” he said； and in the
heart of him could not help marveling at the pleasure
which he derived from making a bagman in a train believe
what he himself did not believe。 For the letter； though
signed by Katharine’s father； contained no invitation or
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warrant for thinking that Katharine herself was there；
the only fact it disclosed was that for a fortnight this
address would be Mr。 Hilbery’s address。 But when he looked
out of the window； it was of her he thought； she； too；
had seen these gray fields； and； perhaps； she was there
where the trees ran up a slope； and one yellow light shone
now； and then went out again； at the foot of the hill。 The
light shone in the windows of an old gray house； he
thought。 He lay back in his corner and forgot the mercial
traveler altogether。 The process of visualizing
Katharine stopped short at the old gray manorhouse；
instinct warned him that if he went much further with
this process reality would soon force itself in； he could
not altogether neglect the figure of William Rodney。 Since
the day when he had heard from Katharine’s lips of her
engagement； he had refrained from investing his dream
of her with the details of real life。 But the light of the
late afternoon glowed green behind the straight trees；
and became a symbol of her。 The light seemed to expand
his heart。 She brooded over the gray fields； and was with
him now in the railway carriage； thoughtful； silent； and
infinitely tender； but the vision pressed too close； and
must be dismissed； for the train was slackening。 Its abrupt
jerks shook him wide awake； and he saw Mary Datchet； a
sturdy russet figure； with a dash of scarlet about it； as
the carriage slid down the platform。 A tall youth who
acpanied her shook him by the hand； took his bag；
and led the way without uttering one articulate word。
Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter’s evening；
when dusk almost hides the body； and they seem to issue
from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard
by day。 Such an edge was there in Mary’s voice when she
greeted him。 About her seemed to hang the mist of the
winter hedges； and the clear red of the bramble leaves。
He felt himself at once stepping on to the firm ground of
an entirely different world； but he did not allow himself
to yield to the pleasure of it directly。 They gave him his
choice of driving with Edward or of walking home across
the fields with Mary—not a shorter way； they explained；
but Mary thought it a nicer way。 He decided to walk with
her； being conscious； indeed； that he got fort from
her presence。 What could be the cause of her cheerful
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ness； he wondered； half ironically； and half enviously； as
the ponycart started briskly away； and the dusk swam
between their eyes and the tall form of Edward； standing
up to drive； with the reins in one hand and the whip in
the other。 People from the village； who had been to the
market town； were climbing into their gigs； or setting off
home down the road together in little parties。 Many salutations
were addressed to Mary； who shouted back； with
the addition of the speaker’s name。 But soon she led the
way over a stile； and along a path worn slightly darker
than the dim green surrounding it。 In front of them the
sky now showed itself of a reddishyellow； like a slice of
some semilucent stone behind which a lamp burnt； while
a fringe of black trees with distinct branches stood against
the light； which was obscured in one direction by a hump
of earth； in all other directions the land lying flat to the
very verge of the sky。 One of the swift and noiseless birds
of the winter’s night seemed to follow them across the
field； circling a few feet in front of them； disappearing
and returning again and again。
Mary had gone this walk many hundred times in the
course of her life； generally alone； and at different stages
the ghosts of past moods would flood her mind with a
whole scene or train of thought merely at the sight of
three trees from a particular angle； or at the sound of the
pheasant clucking in the ditch。 But tonight the circumstances
were strong enough to oust all other scenes； and
she looked at the field and the trees with an involuntary
intensity as if they had no such associations for her。
“Well； Ralph；” she said； “this is better than Lincoln’s Inn
Fields； isn’t it？ Look； there’s a bird for you！ Oh； you’ve brought
glasses； have you？ Edward and Christopher mean to make
you shoot。 Can you shoot？ I shouldn’t think so—”
“Look here； you must explain；” said Ralph。 “Who are
these young men？ Where am I staying？”
“You are staying with us； of course；” she said boldly。
“Of course； you’re staying with us—you don’t mind ing；
do you？”
“If I had； I shouldn’t have e；” he said sturdily。 They
walked on in silence； Mary took care not to break it for a
time。 She wished Ralph to feel； as she thought he would；
all the fresh delights of the earth and air。 She was right。
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In a moment he expressed his pleasure； much to her fort。
“This is the sort of country I thought you’d live in；
Mary；” he said； pushing his hat back on his head； and
looking about him。 “Real country。 No gentlemen’s seats。”
He snuffed the air； and felt more keenly than he had
done for many weeks the pleasure of owning a body。
“Now we have to find our way through a hedge；” said
Mary。 In the gap of the hedge Ralph tore up a poacher’s
wire； set across a hole to trap a rabbit。
“It’s quite right that they should poach；” said Mary；
watching him tugging at the wire。 “I wonder whether it
was Alfred Duggins or Sid Rankin？ How can one expect
them not to； when they only make fifteen shillings a
week？ Fifteen shillings a week；” she repeated； ing
out on the other side of the hedge； and running her fingers
through her hair to rid herself of a bramble which
had attached itself to her。 “I could live on fifteen shillings
a week—easily。”
“Could you？” said Ralph。 “I don’t believe you could；”
he added。
“Oh yes。 They have a cottage thrown in； and a garden
where one can grow vegetables。 It wouldn’t be half bad；”
said Mary； with a soberness which impressed Ralph very much。
“But you’d get tired of it；” he urged。
“I sometimes think it’s the only thing one would never
get tired of；” she replied。
The idea of a cottage where one grew one’s own vegetables
and lived on fifteen shillings a week； filled Ralph
with an extraordinary sense of rest and satisfaction。
“But wouldn’t it be on the main road； or next door to a
woman with six squalling children； who’d always be hanging
her washing out to dry across your garden？”
“The cottage I’m thinking of stands by itself in a little
orchard。”
“And what about the Suffrage？” he asked； attempting
sarcasm。
“Oh； there are other things in the world besides the
Suffrage；” she replied； in an offhand manner which was
slightly mysterious。
Ralph fell silent。 It annoyed him that she should have
plans of which he knew nothing； but he felt that he had
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no right to press her further。 His mind settled upon the
idea of life in a country cottage。 Conceivably； for he could
not examine into it now； here lay a tremendous possibility；
a solution of many problems。 He struck his stick upon
the earth； and stared through the dusk at the shape of
the country。
“D’you know the points