and on sped the car, through Putney and Richmond, on past Feltham and
Staines, eating up the miles so fast that before they knew it they were
out in the country, flying along the level road between hedges whose
green had not as yet become dusty with the summer's traffic.

It was a glorious afternoon in early May, and the Thames valley was at
its best. On either hand were fields sown thick with creamy daisies and
yellow buttercups. Down in a marshy hollow they caught a glimpse of a
carpet of golden kingcups, and once they passed a tiny dell in whose
very heart an azure mist whispered of bluebells; while the blackthorn
and the may made the air fragrant for miles. The birds were singing
their hearts out in the mellow sunshine, and now and again the cuckoo's
call came floating over the meadows from copse or spinney.

Ever and anon as they shot through some village hamlet they caught
glimpses of orchards in full blossom, the pink and white bloom standing
out against the pale blue of the sky with the effect of some delicate
Japanese painting; and in all the little gardens flowers rioted
joyously.

To Toni, spending her life in dingy Brixton, this afternoon was a
red-letter day. The soft, clean air which blew in her face was different
from the stagnant air of the Brixton streets; the scent of flowers was
grateful after the odours of the City, and the vision, now and then, of
the flashing river was a delight to eyes tired with much staring at ugly
houses and shops.

If Toni said little during that magic excursion, it was not shyness
alone which sealed her lips; and although he cast a look now and then at
his companion, Owen was too considerate to break into her raptures with
questioning words.

Only when they were approaching their destination did he begin to point
out the various features of the landscape.

"That village over there is Willgate, noted for an old Saxon arch in its
church. My mother used to go over there to evening service, I remember.
She liked it better than our own church--the one you can just see
peeping between the trees. The village--Willowhurst, I mean--lies round
this bend. It's quite a rural-looking place, when you remember that
after all it is not an hour's journey from Waterloo."

The car glided round the bend as he spoke, and Toni saw the village
lying in the afternoon sunshine, which winked back from the windows of
the little houses, built in a queer, old-fashioned manner round a small
green