vetches in the hedges, meadowsweet, honeysuckle, belated
brambles--but the dog-roses had already gone; there were green
and red blackberries, stellarias, and dandelions, and in another
place white dead nettles, traveller's-joy, clinging bedstraw,
grasses flowering, white campions, and ragged robins. One
cornfield was glorious with poppies, bright scarlet and purple
white, and the blue corn-flowers were beginning. In the lanes the
trees met overhead, and the wisps of hay still hung to the
straggling hedges. Iri one of the main roads he steered a
perilous passage through a dozen surly dun oxen. Here and there
were little cottages, and picturesque beer-houses with the vivid
brewers' boards of blue and scarlet, and once a broad green and a
church, and an expanse of some hundred houses or so. Then he came
to a pebbly rivulet that emerged between clumps of sedge
loosestrife and forget-me-nots under an arch of trees, and
rippled across the road, and there he dismounted, longing to take
off shoes and stockings--those stylish chequered stockings were
now all dimmed with dust --and paddle his lean legs in the
chuckling cheerful water. But instead he sat in a manly attitude,
smoking a cigarette, for fear lest the Young Lady in Grey should
come glittering round the corner. For the flavour of the Young
Lady in Grey was present through it all, mixing with the flowers
and all the delight of it, a touch that made this second day
quite different from the first, an undertone of expectation,
anxiety, and something like regret that would not be ignored.

It was only late in the long evening that, quite abruptly, he
began to repent, vividly and decidedly, having fled these two
people. He was getting hungry, and that has a curious effect upon
the emotional colouring of our minds. The man was a sinister