Chapter 8Edward stayed late with Mr. Barr. It was just short of ten o’clock and black dark when he came down to the watersplash and got out a pocket torch to see him over the stepping-stones, though for the matter of that his feet would have found them easily enough with no more than memory to guide. There had been heavy rain in the night, and the stream was full. The stones were slippery and the big flat one half-way across had a film of water over it. He took them with a run and a jump, and was aware of being relaxed, and freer than he had been during the five arid years which lay behind him. It was not raining now—it had not rained all day—but the air was damp, and soft, and very mild. “East, west, home’s best.” The words rang in his mind. There wasn’t any place like the one where the w
