The moors, carpeted with purple, stretched all around her, glistening, wet, beautiful.
In the train she had felt hungry and tired, with burning head and cold limbs.

As she walked these feelings wore off, and were replaced by a feeling of upliftment which was magical in its change.

Her misery and her burden dropped from her.

The softness of the moors was beneath her feet, and a sweet wind touched her lips and cheeks with a breath which was a caress.

The plaintive distant cry of a gull reached her like a greeting.
The solitude of Cornwall surrounded her.
When she reached the cross-roads she struck out across the moors.