There, and very near.

If there had been wood-gods and wicked-eyed fauns in the sunlit groves and hill sides of old Hellas, surely there were watchful, living things of kindred mould in this dusk-hidden wilderness of field and hedge and coppice.
It was Yeovil's third or fourth day with the hounds, without taking into account a couple of mornings' cub-hunting.

Already he felt that he had been doing nothing different from this all his life.

His foreign travels, his illness, his recent weeks in London, they were part of a tapestried background that had very slight and distant connection with his present existence.

Of the future he tried to think with greater energy and determination.