She sat on a seat under the alders in the cricket-ground, and fronted the evening.

Before her, level and solid, spread the big green cricket-field, like the bed of a sea of light.

Children played in the bluish shadow of the pavilion.

Many rooks, high up, came cawing home across the softly-woven sky.

They stooped in a long curve down into the golden glow, concentrating, cawing, wheeling, like black flakes on a slow vortex, over a tree clump that made a dark boss among the pasture.
A few gentlemen were practising, and Mrs.Morel could hear the chock of the ball, and the voices of men suddenly roused; could see the white forms of men shifting silently over the green, upon which already the under shadows were smouldering.