After the exchange of ordinary greetings, Jasper leaned back against the same support and showed himself disposed for talk.
'When I was here late in the spring,' he said, 'this ash was only just budding, though everything else seemed in full leaf.' 'An ash, is it ?' murmured Marian.

'I didn't know.

I think an oak is the only tree I can distinguish.

Yet,' she added quickly, 'I knew that the ash was late; some lines of Tennyson come to my memory.' 'Which are those ?' 'Delaying, as the tender ash delays To clothe herself when all the woods are green, somewhere in the "Idylls."' 'I don't remember; so I won't pretend to--though I should do so as a rule.' She looked at him oddly, and seemed about to laugh, yet did not.
'You have had little experience of the country ?' Jasper continued.
'Very little.

You, I think, have known it from childhood ?' 'In a sort of way.