Now beside this house, separated by a wide stretch of lawn, was a small
wood and, lured by its grateful shade, he turned aside into this wood
and began pushing his way through the dense undergrowth, which presently
thinned to form a small clearing, roofed and shut in by leaves and full
of a tender green light. Here he paused, and espying a fallen tree hard
by, sat himself down and began to fill his pipe. And now, remembering
his shabby person, he felt disinclined to go up to the house and demand
to see Miss Chesterton. Yet see her he would--but how? He was frowning
over this problem when it was resolved for him quite unexpectedly;
roused by the sound of a snapping twig, he glanced up--and Hermione was
before him. She was coming down a narrow path that wound amid the
leaves, and because she wore no hat, the sunlight, filtering through the
branches, made a glory of her hair as she passed. Her head was bowed,
and she walked very slowly as one in thought; she had brought sewing
with her, but for once her busy hands were idle, and, as he looked upon
her beauty, scarce breathing, he saw again that look of wistful sadness.
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