Should she walk far away into the woods and lie upon the ground and weep?
That would be a singularly foolish plan, and at lunch everybody would see that she had been crying.

Yet it was impossible to remain here, to remain still, and thinking.

She must move quickly, and make her body tired.

She went to her room, pinned on her hat, drew on her gloves, and, choosing a stick as she went through the hall, passed from the grounds and through the meadow walk to a long road, climbing and winding, whose walls, at either side, seemed to hold back the billows of the woodland.
The day was hot and dusty.

The sky was like a blue stone, the green monotonous, the road glared white.