He drank in all the wonder of the hedgerows; the tight, shy fronds of the male fern--all the marvelous secrecy of the curved bank. He saw primroses, the dapple of pale lilac where milkmaid bloomed. Dandelions, like dropped guineas, rose from the grass. He came to another house, and stared at the long wasteful slope of the red roof, at narrow windows lurking under heavy eaves, at the tracery of oak beams across greenish-white plaster walls. A tremendous pear tree just in bloom shaded the house door. A patch of kitchen garden had been turned up roughly in autumn; there were black heaps of manure, the size and shape of haycocks, on the ridged earth. Clothes hung on a line--dim colors, patched garments of outlandish shape. The bloom of the pear tree was falling; it was gray on the stone path. A young woman came out to the gate and stared at him curiously. He asked her for a drink of water. She led the way into the dairy, never saying a word. He thought the silence of country people very strange. He had become accustomed to the restless loquacity of the eager Cockney. She was a fresh-faced young woman and seemed fragrant, just as everything else was. A robust woman! Her arms beneath her rolled-up sleeves were quite brawny--rosy, round arms, dented at the elbows and a deeper red. He watched her dip the milk. The dairy was cool; he thought of a sweet, intensely still grave. There were shallow bowls full of cream. There was a slab of slate on which was butter in firm pounds, all marked with the same mark. She gave him the milk and shook her head when he offered to pay. Their hands touched round the mug, which was striped blue and white. Hers was strong and dry and very cold. When he went away he looked back once. She was at the gate, watching him with a slow, speculative glance in which he fancied he detected a touch of fear. He took away a vivid impression of her. She was a ruddy-faced young woman in a lilac cotton gown. It was short-waisted, and her linen apron was tied very high, almost under her arms. She seemed oddly shaped--a creature with a minimum of body; all curly head, round, big bust, and long limbs. * * * * * He sidled out at the oak gate stealthily. He was so afraid that he would be seen, that someone else would find that walk; someone tainted with the horrible modern idea of Progress; someone who would build and bring machinery. He took the first tram home. The people who also rode on it had never seemed more cadaverous, more fusty. They exhaled an odor of wardrobe shops. I met him in the square almost at his own doorway. The deep hollows in his face were filled with red. His long hands were quivering with excitement. “Come up to my rooms,” he said hastily. “I’ve something to tell you, I’ve had a most wonderful experience.”