After all we were comrades in a big job, and it was up to me to be man enough to win her.

The thought seemed to brace any courage that was in me.

No task seemed too hard with her approval to gain and her companionship somewhere at the back of it.

I sat for a long time in a happy dream, remembering all the glimpses I had had of her, and humming her song to an audience of one black-faced sheep.
On the highroad half a mile below me, I saw a figure on a bicycle mounting the hill, and then getting off to mop its face at the summit.
I turned my Ziess glasses on to it, and observed that it was a country policeman.

It caught sight of me, stared for a bit, tucked its machine into the side of the road, and then very slowly began to climb the hillside.