Bareheaded, Jeanne walked upon the yellow sands close to the softly breaking waves.

Inland stretched the marshes, with their patches of vivid green, their clouds of faintly blue wild lavender, their sinuous creeks stealing into the bosom of the land.

She climbed on to a grassy knoll, warm with the sun's heat, and threw herself down upon the turf.
She turned her back upon the Hall and looked steadily seawards, across the waste of sands and pasture-land to where sky and sea met.

Here at least was peace.

She drew a long breath of relief, cast aside the book which she had never dreamed of reading, and lay full length in the grass, with her eyes upturned to where a lark was singing his way down from the blue sky.
Andrew came before long, speeding his way out of the village harbour in his little catboat.