She was standing among the willow trees, and out of the moonlight a voice was saying in a low hurry: ‘I love you’--and saying another thing damnably characteristic: ‘Lovely Judy! Lovely dark eyes!’ His teeth gleamed as he smiled in the moonlight.... He closed his eyes.... It was all in such bad taste, in such bad taste.... Martin was pointing out the marches of the estate. There were beech copses and farms and two gentle folds of sun-drenched sheep-strewn hill between them and its final hedgerows. ‘You know I do love it,’ said Martin shyly. ‘I worship the soil.’ He hesitated and then said with a laugh: ‘Funny: Sometimes I absolutely wish I were dead so that I could be buried in it and have it all over me and inside me for ever and ever.... Look at the way those slopes overlap....’ His eyes fastened on them, with a hungry expression. Then this was Martin’s secret bread. It was his land that nourished him at the source, and made of him this man with an individual dignity and simplicity at the core of his ordinariness. She made an effort to come nearer to him in mind. ‘Yes ... I know Martin.’ He turned joyfully. ‘I always tell you everything, Judith. I suppose it’s because I know you’ll understand.’ ‘Which bit do you want to be buried in, Martin?’ ‘I don’t care--as long as I’m well inside it.’ ‘Would you ever commit suicide?’ ‘Would I what?’ ‘Commit suicide. To--to get there quicker.’ He laughed and said comfortably: ‘Well, I’ve never been tempted to so far....’ ‘It’s an old family place is it, Martin?’ ‘Oh, yes. My father was born here, and all the others. Roddy’s father and Julian’s, and the only sister--Mariella’s mother. She was very beautiful you know--and absolutely wild--almost mad I should think. She ran away from her husband and goodness knows what sort of life she led. I believe it simply broke my grandfather’s heart. He died, and then Grannie--you remember Grannie?--couldn’t bear to go on living here alone. All the children were scattered or married or dead. So she moved to the little place on the river--next door to you.... Poor old lady, she didn’t have much of a time. She outlived all her children except Roddy’s father: and he was never much use to her. He quarrelled with his father when he was quite a boy and left home. I don’t know what about. Grandpapa was a terrible martinet.... Yes, they were an unlucky family.’ ‘And they all died young, Martin?’ ‘More or less. But we none of us ever live to be old,’ he said cheerfully. They had reached the top of the hill; and, suddenly, up went Martin’s gun. Then, with an exclamation of disgust, he lowered it again. ‘Wasn’t ready for him. Once they get into that bracken----’ ‘What’s that, Martin?’ ‘Rabbit. Didn’t you see? Beastly vermin.... Never saw anything like them. Much as we can do to keep pace with them.’ He was muttering to himself in an annoyed way. ‘But, Martin--do you mean to shoot them?’ ‘Shoot them? I should say I do, if I get the chance.’