familiar moor and marsh and pasture lying steaming in the sun.
Grey and opal hues were cast over the land by passing clouds; where some herds were crossing it, a cloud of dust rose, dusky and curled like smoke.
She traversed the well-known ways. The sky and the earth seemed whirling round her. Her feet moved without her knowing it. Her body seemed one great pulse, beating, beating, beating.
She never thought of his innocence being made known; had she not always known it? What she thought of only was this: as soon as he was told, he would go.
Need he ever be told?
She held him as one holds a bird in the hollow of the hand.
If she never unclosed her hand, he would never go.
No, he need never be told: she said so to herself as she walked: never, never.
If her mouth were shut, no other could speak. He was hers, as the dead are the earth's.
She could keep him close here, hers only, hers absolutely. Was he not hers, purchased by all that she could give, won
