She passed along the yellow lane driven deep between high banks of earth where the roots of great elm-trees cropped out.

Every step was familiar to her.

The lane with many twists under overarching branches ran down a steep hill and came out into the open by the big house with its pillared portico and its light grey stone and its wonderful garden of lawn and flowers and cedars.

A tiny church with a narrow graveyard and strange carefully-trimmed square bushes of yew stood next to the house, and beyond the church the lane dipped to the river and the cottage.
Stella went from room to room.

She had furnished the cottage simply and daintily; the walls were bright, her servant-girl had gathered flowers and set them about.