It was a morning rich with sunlight, noisy with blackbirds, and she seemed to him a necessary part of it.

She was alive with it and gave rather than took of its gold.

For not even that finely chiselled nose of hers could impart to her anything of the look of a statue.
"Yes.

They went straight, didn't they, those old centurions ?" he said.
He moved his horse and stood in the middle of the track looking across a valley of forest and meadow to Halnaker Down, six miles away in the southwest.

Straight in the line of his eyes over a shoulder of the down rose a tall fine spire--the spire of Chichester Cathedral, and farther on he could see the water in Bosham Creek like a silver mirror, and the Channel rippling silver beyond.