the man must be when he sees the girl turn."

"He doesn't see her. He never guesses. Such a man could never see
a Dryad."

"So you describe how she turns just before he comes up?"

"No. Indeed I don't ever say that she does turn. I don't use the
word 'Dryad' once."

"I think you ought to put that part plainly. Otherwise, with such
an original story, people might miss the point. Have you had any
luck with it?"

"Magazines? I haven't tried. I know what the stuff's worth. You
see, a year or two ago I had a great idea of getting into touch
with Nature, just as the Greeks were in touch; and seeing England
so beautiful, I used to pretend that her trees and coppices and
summer fields of parsley were alive. It's funny enough now, but
it wasn't funny then, for I got in such a state that I believed,
actually believed, that Fauns lived in a certain double hedgerow
near the Cog Magogs, and one evening I walked a mile sooner
than go through it alone."

"Good gracious!" She laid her hand on his shoulder.

He moved to the other side of the road. "It's all right now. I've
changed those follies for others. But while I had them I began to
write, and even now I keep on writing, though I know better. I've
got quite a pile of little stories, all harping on this