the result, he concluded, of too much moral gymnastics. It was sad to see her thus blind to the beauties of an August wood.
“'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height,'“ he quoted, and touched her knee with his own.
She flushed again and said: “What height?”
“'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height, What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang). In height and in the splendour of the hills?'
Let us take Mrs. Honeychurch's advice and hate clergymen no more. What's this place?”
“Summer Street, of course,” said Lucy, and roused herself.
The woods had opened to leave space for a