27/32 The smell of the moor was as fresh as though the foot of man had never crossed it--deserted, but not alone; bare, but not empty; uninhabited, but peopled; silent, but full of voices. He knew now how every line of the road would be. They left the moor and were on the road leading to Rafield. These were the days before they built the road from Liskane wide enough for motor-cars and other horrible inventions. Thirty years ago the way was so narrow that the briars and ferns brushed your face as you passed, and you could reach out your hand and pluck snap-dragons and dandelions and fox-gloves. |