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shadows under the eyes less marked. The scarlet of her lips
deepened to red-brown, and the great blue eyes seemed
almost black. She was lovely—lovely!—a straight forehead,
faintly arched nose, short, clean-cut upper lip, a strong,
round chin and finely curved cheeks, tiny ears, and
delicately pencilled eyebrows. …
She smiled as she walked, lightly and carelessly, thought
of nothing, and smiled in harmony with everything around
her. At the end of the path, she stopped and began to rock
on her heel, first to the right, then to the left, still with her
hands behind her back, head held straight, and eyes turned
upward, as she hummed fitfully in time with her swaying.
Two flagstones led down into the garden, which lay
glaring under the cloudless, whitish-blue sky. The only bit of
shade hugged the feet of the clipped box-hedge. The heat
stung the eyes, and even the hedge seemed to flash light
from the burnished leaves. The amber-bush trailed its
white garlands in and out among thirsty balsamines,
nightshade, gillyflowers, and pinks, which stood huddling like
sheep in the open. The peas and beans flanking the
lavender border were ready to fall from their trellis with heat.
The marigolds had given up the struggle and stared the sun
straight in the face, but the poppies had shed their large red
petals and stood with bared stalks.
The child in the linden lane jumped down the steps,
ran through the sun-heated garden, with head lowered as
one crosses a court in the rain, made for a triangle of dark
yew-trees, slipped behind them, and entered a large arbor,
a relic from the days of the Belows. A wide circle of elms
had been woven together at the top as far as the branches
would reach, and a framework of withes closed the round
opening in the centre. Climbing roses and Italian
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