weeks the conclusion had been forcing itself on me. Not that I didn't
revel in my madness, but that it seemed too hopeless a business, and I
had no use for barren philandering. But, seated on a rock munching
chocolate and biscuits, I faced up to the fact and resolved to trust my
luck. After all we were comrades in a big job, and it was up to me to
be man enough to win her. The thought seemed to brace any courage
that was in me. No task seemed too hard with her approval to gain
and her companionship somewhere at the back of it. I sat for a long
time in a happy dream, remembering all the glimpses I had had of
her, and humming her song to an audience of one black-faced sheep.

On the highroad half a mile below me, I saw a figure on a
bicycle mounting the hill, and then getting off to mop its face at the
summit. I turned my Ziess glasses on to it, and observed that it was
a country policeman. It caught sight of me, stared for a bit, tucked
its machine into the side of the road, and then very slowly began to
climb the hillside. Once it stopped, waved its hand and shouted
something which I could not hear. I sat finishing my luncheon, till
the features were revealed to me of a fat oldish man, blowing like a
grampus, his cap well on the back of a bald head, and his trousers
tied about the shins with string.

There was a spring beside me and I had out my flask to round
off my meal.

'Have a drink,' I said.

His eye brightened, and a smile overran his moist face.

'Thank you, sir. It will be very warrm coming up the brae.'