He had buried her there among the blackened thorn and furze, and placed a little cross of stones above her.
"I hope nobody saw me," he said with a laugh.

"But I couldn't bear to leave her there, unhonoured." "It's one of the things that make me less certain than I want to be of a future existence," said Joan: "the thought that animals can have no part in it; that all their courage and love and faithfulness dies with them and is wasted." "Are you sure it is ?" he answered.

"It would be so unreasonable." They had tea at an old-fashioned inn beside a stream.

It was a favourite resort in summer time, but now they had it to themselves.

The wind had played pranks with her hair and he found a mirror and knelt before her, holding it.
She stood erect, looking down at him while seeming to be absorbed in the rearrangement of her hair, feeling a little ashamed of herself.