“I think Sarah has gone to the Gardens,” she said, turning round.
“You always keep reminding me of Sarah. There’s nothing between us; anything there ever was is all off long ago…. Are you going for a walk?”
She was glad of the chance to get a mouthful of fresh air, and they went towards the hunting gate. William held it open and she passed through.
The plantations were enclosed by a wooden fence, and beyond them the bare downs rose hill after hill. On the left the land sloped into a shallow valley sown with various crops; and the shaws about Elliot’s farm were the last trees. Beyond the farmhouse the downs ascended higher and higher, treeless, irreclaimable, scooped into long patriarchal solitudes, thrown into wild crests.
There was a smell of sheep in the air, and the flock trotted pa
