Barbara sighed.

With her, in her dream, had been another buzzard hawk, and she was filled with a sort of surprise, and queer pleasure that ran down her in little shivers while she bathed and dressed.
In her haste she took no hat; and still busy with the fastening of her linen frock, hurried down the stairs and Georgian corridor, towards the garden.

At the end of it she almost ran into the arms of Courtier.
Awakening early this morning, he had begun first thinking of Audrey Noel, threatened by scandal; then of his yesterday's companion, that glorious young creature, whose image had so gripped and taken possession of him.

In the pleasure of this memory he had steeped himself.

She was youth itself! That perfect thing, a young girl without callowness.
And his words, when she nearly ran into him, were: "The Winged Victory!" Barbara's answer was equally symbolic: "A buzzard hawk! Do you know, I dreamed we were flying, Mr.Courtier." Courtier gravely answered "If the gods give me that dream----" From the garden door Barbara turned her head, smiled, and passed through.
Lady Casterley, in the company of little Ann, who had perceived that it was novel to be in the garden at this hour, had been scrutinizing some newly founded colonies of a flower with which she was not familiar.