He loved Miriam's long, low parlour, with its atmosphere of romance, its flowers, its books, its high rosewood piano.

He loved the gardens and the buildings that stood with their scarlet roofs on the naked edges of the fields, crept towards the wood as if for cosiness, the wild country scooping down a valley and up the uncultured hills of the other side.

Only to be there was an exhilaration and a joy to him.
He loved Mrs.Leivers, with her unworldliness and her quaint cynicism; he loved Mr.Leivers, so warm and young and lovable; he loved Edgar, who lit up when he came, and the boys and the children and Bill--even the sow Circe and the Indian game-cock called Tippoo.

All this besides Miriam.

He could not give it up.
So he went as often, but he was usually with Edgar.