nned by his cruelty, and did not hear. He had not the
faintest notion of what he was saying. It was as if his fretted,
tortured soul, run hot by thwarted passion, jetted off these sayings
like sparks from electricity. She did not grasp anything he said. She
only sat crouched beneath his cruelty and his hatred of her. She never
realised in a flash. Over everything she brooded and brooded.

After tea he stayed with Edgar and the brothers, taking no notice of
Miriam. She, extremely unhappy on this looked-for holiday, waited for
him. And at last he yielded and came to her. She was determined to track
this mood of his to its origin. She counted it not much more than a
mood.

"Shall we go through the wood a little way?" she asked him, knowing he
never refused a direct request.

They went down to the warren. On the middle path they passed a trap, a
narrow horseshoe hedge of small fir-boughs, baited with the guts of a
rabbit. Paul glanced at it frowning. She caught his eye.

"Isn't it dreadful?" she asked.

"I don't know! Is it worse than a weasel with its teeth in a rabbit's
throat? One weasel or many rabbits? One or the other must go!"

He was taking the bitterness of life badly. She was rather sorry for
him.

"We will go back to the house," he said. "I don't want to walk out."

They went past the lilac-tree, whose bronze leaf-buds were coming
unfastened. Just a fragment remained of the haystack, a monument squared
and brown, like a pillar of stone. There was a little bed of hay from
the last cutting.

"Let us sit here a minute," said Miriam.

He sat down against his will, resting his back against the hard wall of
hay. They faced the amphitheatre of round hills that glowed with sunset,
tiny white farms standing out, the meadows golden, the woods dark and
yet luminous, tree-tops folded over tree-tops, distinct in the distance.
The evening had cleared, and the east was tender with a magenta flush
under which the land lay still and rich.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she pleaded.

But he only scowled. He would rather have had it ugly just then.

At that moment a big bull-terrier came rushing up, open-mouthed, pranced
his two paws on the youth's shoulders, licking his face. Paul drew back,
laughing. Bill was a great relief to him. He pushed the dog aside, but
it came leaping back.

"Get out," said the lad, "or I'll dot thee one."

But the dog was not to be pushed away. So Paul had a little battle
with the creature, pi