three miles from the town. Walking was the only way of getting to the
place, except twice a week when a little cargo boat went down the
canal, and took some hours about it. This was neither the day nor the
time for the boat, Julia would have to walk; but, as she assured
Mevrouw, she much preferred it. Accordingly, as soon as dinner was
finished, she was given a great many messages, mostly of a condoling
nature, for the old lady was ill in bed, some strengthening soup, and
a little bottle of the peach-brandy. With these things packed in a
substantial marketing basket, she started.

Through the town she went with that easy step and indifference to the
presence of other people that Denah so criticised, faster and faster
her spirits rising. Once or twice she looked in at the low windows
that stood open on the shady side of the street; there she saw the
heads of families smoking their after-dinner pipes, while their wives
and daughters sat crocheting and watching the passersby. There were
chairs with crimson velvet seats in most of the rooms, and funny
little cabinet, or side-board things of bright red mahogany, with
modern Delft vases, very blue indeed, upon them. And always there was
a certain snugness, perhaps even smugness, about the rooms. At least,
so it seemed to her as she looked in, almost insolently pleased to be
outside, to be free and alone.

In time she came to the outskirts of the town, the canal lay on her
right, and on her left, flat green fields, cut up by innumerable
ditches, and set with frequent windmills, all black and white, and
mostly used for maintaining the water level. There were people busy
in the fields, but to Julia they only gave the idea of ants, and did
not intrude upon her mind in the least. It was all very quiet and
green around, and quiet and blue above, except for the larks singing