then would add, laughing, "I daresay I am a conceited puppy to
say so: but the fact is, there are not six people in the world
whose company I would prefer to my own for a whole day."

He found his own company quite sufficient during all his
wanderings through that long summer's day in the lovely
country round Chaudfontaine, a country neither grand nor wild,
hardly romantic, but with a charm of its own that enticed
Graham onwards in spite of the hot August sun. It was so
green, so peaceful, so out of the world; the little valleys
were wrapped so closely amongst the hills, the streams came
gushing out of the limestone rocks, dry water, courses led him
higher and higher up amongst the silent woods, which stretched
away for miles on either hand. Sometimes he would come upon an
open space, whence he could look down upon the broader valley
beneath, with its quiet river flowing through the midst,
reflecting white villages, forges, long rows of poplars, an
occasional bridge, and here and there a long low island; or
descending, he would find himself in some narrow ravine, cleft
between grey rocky heights overgrown with brushwood and
trailing plants, the road leading beside a marshy brook, full
of rushes and forget-me-nots, and disappearing amongst the
forest trees. All day long Graham wandered about that pleasant
land, and it was long past the four o'clock dinner hour when
he stood on the top of the hill he had seen that morning from
his window, and looked across the wide view of woods and
cornfields to where a distant cloud of smoke marked the city
of Liége. Thence descending by a steep zig-zag path, with a
bench at every angle, he crossed the road and the little
rivulet, and found himself once more in the garden at the back