the best. It's true that in nine cases out of ten they don't seem
to notice anything. The country gentleman and the country
labourer are each in their way the most depressing of companions.
Yet they may have a tacit sympathy with the workings of Nature
which is denied to us of the town. Do you feel that, Mrs.
Honeychurch?"

Mrs. Honeychurch started and smiled. She had not been attending.
Cecil, who was rather crushed on the front seat of the victoria,
felt irritable, and determined not to say anything interesting
again.

Lucy had not attended either. Her brow was wrinkled, and she
still looked furiously cross--the result, he concluded, of too
much moral gymnastics. It was sad to see her thus blind to the
beauties of an August wood.

"'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height,'" he quoted,
and touched her knee with his own.

She flushed again and said: "What height?"

"'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height,
What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang).
In height and in the splendour of the hills?'

Let us take Mrs. Honeychurch's advice and hate clergymen no
more. What's this place?"

"Summer Street, of course," said Lucy, and roused herself.