wayside station. It was in the south-east corner of Somersetshire,
and Howard liked the look of the landscape, the steep green downs,
with their wooded dingles breaking down into rich undulating
plains, dappled with hedgerow trees and traversed by gliding
streams. He was met at the station by an old-fashioned waggonette,
with an elderly coachman, who said that Mrs. Graves had hoped to
come herself, but was not very well, and thought that Mr. Kennedy
would prefer an open carriage.

Howard was astonished at the charm of the whole countryside. They
passed through several hamlets, with beautiful old houses, built of
a soft orange stone, weathering to a silvery grey, with evidences
of careful and pretty design in their mullioned windows and arched
doorways. The churches, with their great richly carved towers,
pierced stone shutters, and clustered pinnacles, pleased him
extremely, and he liked the simple and courteous greetings of the
people who passed them. He had a sense, long unfamiliar to him, as
though he were somehow coming home. The road entered a green valley
among the downs. To the left, an outstanding bluff was crowned with
the steep turfed bastions of an ancient fort, and as they went in
among the hills, the slopes grew steeper, rich with hanging woods
and copses, and the edges of the high thickets were white with
bleached flints. At last they passed into a hamlet with a church,
and a big vicarage among shrubberies; this was Windlow Malzoy, the
coachman said, and that was Mr. Sandys' house. Howard saw a girl
wandering about on the lawn--Jack's sister, he supposed, but it was
too far off for him to see her distinctly; five minutes later they
drove into Windlow. It lay at the very bottom of the valley; a
clear stream ran beneath the bridge. There were but half a dozen
cottages, and just ahead of them, abutting on the road, appeared