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It was not one lark but many that were carolling specks against the blue, as Keeling walked along the ridge of the down next day, to where after an upland mile it dipped into the hollow where he and Norah had met before, and where they would meet again now. The afternoon was warm and windless, and the squalls and showers of yesterday had been translated into the vivider green that clothed the slopes. But all this epiphany of spring that had so kindled his heart before, passed by him to-day quite unobserved: he saw only the tops of the trees, which, climbing up on the sides of the hollow for which he was bound, fringed the edge of the ridge. Soon he had reached that, the track dipped over down the slope, and on each side, between the oak-trunks, and the stumps of the felled hazels, there was spread one continuous sheet of azure, as if the sky had flooded the ground with itself. But he hardly saw that even, for sitting on the bank, where, at the bottom of the hollow, the stream crossed the track, was Norah. The Clockwork man turned slowly and surveyed the prostrate figure. "A rudimentary race," he soliloquised, with his finger nosewards, "half blind, and painfully restricted in their movements. Evidently they have only a few senses—five at the most." He passed out into the street, carefully avoiding the body.[Pg 103] "They have a certain freedom," he continued, still nursing his nose, "within narrow limits. But they soon grow limp. And when they fall down, or lose balance, they have no choice but to embrace the earth." "Where's the sense in making that noise?" Balmayne growled. "Why didn't you bring your latchkey as I suggested, instead of leaving the front door open? Some zealous policeman found it open and rang the servants up." Lawrence took a fountain pen from his pocket. Without the slightest hesitation and in a good dashing hand Leona Lalage appended her signature. It was a great deal more firm and true than either of the witnessing signatures. "Close with her," yelled Lawrence, "she's got poison in her hand." "But, madame, I am not German; I am a Netherlander. I should...." to be quite a prominent person! They tore on, away from the noise of the flames, of the falling timber and the shouted commands, around the haystacks so close to the barbed-wire fence that the barbs cut his boot, off by the back of the quarters, and then upon the road that led from the reservation. If the pony could be kept on that road, there was small danger from dog holes. He would run himself out in time. The length of time was what was uncertain, however. A cow-pony can go a good many hours at a stretch. "To think of me, a Deacon in the Baptist Church, akchelly meditatin' about goin' to another man's coop at night and stealin' his chickens? Could Maria ever be made to believe such a thing? I can't be lieve it myself." "The sooner the better," grunted Shorty. "You can't run over me, if you are a Sergeant." Norma kept her eyes on her glass. "Nothing," she said, in a new, strained voice. "Yes, my lady—before I was married I obtained my support by making the vestments for some of the monks at Hailes Abbey." HoME泷泽萝拉的出道
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