They faced the amphitheatre of round hills that glowed with sunset, tiny white farms standing out, the meadows golden, the woods dark and yet luminous, tree-tops folded over tree-tops, distinct in the distance.
The evening had cleared, and the east was tender with a magenta flush under which the land lay still and rich.
"Isn't it beautiful ?" she pleaded.
But he only scowled.

He would rather have had it ugly just then.
At that moment a big bull-terrier came rushing up, open-mouthed, pranced his two paws on the youth's shoulders, licking his face.

Paul drew back, laughing.

Bill was a great relief to him.

He pushed the dog aside, but it came leaping back.
"Get out," said the lad, "or I'll dot thee one." But the dog was not to be pushed away.