ods, the
patches of vivid green where a damp and marshy meadow or so broke the
moorland surface. To-day in spite of the sun there was a bright
blue-white line of frost to the northward of every hedge and bank, the
trees were dripping down the white edgings of the morning into the
pine-needle mud at their feet; he had seen it so like this before; years
hence he might see it all like this again; all this great breezy
countryside had taken upon itself a quality of endurance, as though it
would still be real and essential in his mind when Lady Harman had
altogether passed again. It would be real when he himself had passed
away, and in other costumes and other vehicles fresh Euphemias and new
crude George Brumleys would come along, feeling in the ultimate bright
new wisdom of youth that it was all for them--a subservient scenery,
when really it was entirely indifferent in its careless permanence to
all their hopes and fancies....

Sec.6

Mr. Brumley's thoughts on the permanence of landscape and the mutability
of human affairs were more than a little dashed when he came within
sight of Black Strand and perceived that once cosily beautiful little
home clipped and extended, its shrubbery wrecked and the old barn now
pierced with windows and adorned--for its new chimneys were not working
very well--by several efficient novelties in chimney cowls. Up the
slopes behind Sir Isaac had extended his boundaries, and had been
felling trees and levelling a couple of tennis courts for next summer.

Something was being done to the porch, and the jasmine had been cleared
away altogether. Mr. Brumley could not quite understand what was in
progress; Sir Isaac he learnt afterwards had found a wonderful bargain
in a real genuine Georgian portal of great dignity and simplicity in
Aleham, and he was going to improve Black Strand by transferring it
thither--with the utmost precaution and every piece numbered--from its
original situation. Mr. Brumley stood among the preparatory debris of
this and rang a quietly resolute electric bell, which was answered no
longer by Mrs. Rabbit but by the ample presence of Snagsby.

Snagsby in that doorway had something of the preposterous effect of a
very large face beneath a very small hat. He had to Mr. Brumley's eyes a
restored look, as though his self-confidence had been thoroughly done up
since their last encounter. Bygones were bygones. Mr. Brumley was
admitted as one is admitted to any normal home. He