Calm, clean spaces emerging, the bright, sharp-cut pattern of the fields; squares and fans and pointed triangles, close fitted; emerald green of the turnips; yellow of the charlock lifted high and clear; red brown and pink and purple of ploughed land and fallows; red gold of the wheat and white green of the barley; shimmering in a wash of thin air. Where Anne and Jerrold sat, green pastures, bitten smooth by the sheep, flowed down below them in long ridges like waves. On the right the bright canary coloured charlock brimmed the field. Its flat, vanilla and almond scent came to them. "What's Yorkshire like?" "Not a patch on this place. I can't think what there is about it that makes you feel so jolly happy." "But you'd always be happy, Jerrold, anywhere." "Not like that. I mean a queer, uncanny feeling that you sort of can't make out." "I know. I know... There's nothing on earth that gets you like the smell of charlock." Anne tilted up her nose and sniffed delicately. "Fancy seeing this country suddenly for the first time," he said. "There's such a lot of it. You wouldn't see it properly. It takes ages just to tell one hill from another." He looked at her. She could feel him meditating, considering. "I say, I wonder what it would feel like seeing each other for the first time." "Not half so nice as seeing each other now. Why, we shouldn't remember any of the jolly things we've done: together." He had seen Maisie Durham for the first time. She wondered whether that had made him think of it. "No, but the effect might be rather stunning--I mean of seeing _you_." "It wouldn't. And you'd be nothing but a big man with a face I rather liked. I suppose I should like your face. We shouldn't _know_ each other, Jerrold." "No more we should. It would be like not knowing Dad or Mummy or Colin. A thing you can't conceive." "It would be like not knowing anything at all ... Of course, the best thing would be both." "Both?" "Knowing each other and not knowing." "You can't have it both ways," he said. "Oh, can't you! You don't half know me as it is, and I don't half know you. We might both do anything any day. Things that would make each other jump." "What sort of things?" "That's the exciting part of it--we wouldn't know." "I believe you _could_, Anne--make me jump." "Wait till I get out to India." "You're really going?" "Really going. Daddy may send for me any day." "I may be sent there. Then we'll go out together." "Will Maisie Durham be going too?" "O Lord no. Not with us. At least I hope not ... Poor little Maisie, I was a beast to say that." "Is she little?" "No, rather big. But you think of her as little. Only I don't think of her." They stood up; they stood close; looking at each other, laughing. As he laughed his eyes took her in, from head to feet, wondering, admiring.