They left the wood, crossed the River Garth, and came out on to moorland.

Here, for the first time, Jeremy smelt the sea; the lanes had been hot, but here the wind blew across the moor, with the smell of sea-pinks and sea-gulls in it.

The grass was short and rough; the soil was sand.

On the horizon was the grey, melancholy tower of a deserted mine.

Some bird flew with swiftly driving wings, crying as it went.