lashes. But it was only when she laughed that her face lost its habitual
expression, which was somewhat sullen; then it flowed with bright humour.
She laughed now, showing a white line of almond-shaped teeth. The porter
had asked her if she were afraid to leave her bundle with her box. Both,
he said, would go up together in the donkey-cart. The donkey-cart came
down every evening to fetch parcels.... That was the way to Woodview,
right up the lane. She could not miss it. She would find the lodge gate in
that clump of trees. The man lingered, for she was an attractive girl, but
the station-master called him away to remove some luggage.

It was a barren country. Once the sea had crawled at high tide half-way up
the sloping sides of those downs. It would do so now were it not for the
shingle bank which its surging had thrown up along the coast. Between the
shingle bank and the shore a weedy river flowed and the little town stood
clamped together, its feet in the water's edge. There were decaying
shipyards about the harbour, and wooden breakwaters stretched long, thin
arms seawards for ships that did not come. On the other side of the
railway apple blossoms showed above a white-washed wall; some market
gardening was done in the low-lying fields, whence the downs rose in
gradual ascents. On the first slope there was a fringe of trees. That was
Woodview.

The girl gazed on this bleak country like one who saw it for the first
time. She saw without perceiving, for her mind was occupied with personal
consideration. She found it difficult to decide whether she should leave
her bundle with her box. It hung heavy in her hand, and she did not know
how far Woodview was from the station. At the end of the platform the
station-master took her ticket, and she passed over the level-crossing
still undecided. The lane began with iron railings, laurels, and French
windows. She had been in service in such houses, and knew if she were