They set off down to Strelley Mill Farm.

As they were going beside the brook, on the Willey Water side, looking through the brake at the edge of the wood, where pink campions glowed under a few sunbeams, they saw, beyond the tree-trunks and the thin hazel bushes, a man leading a great bay horse through the gullies.

The big red beast seemed to dance romantically through that dimness of green hazel drift, away there where the air was shadowy, as if it were in the past, among the fading bluebells that might have bloomed for Deidre or Iseult.
The three stood charmed.
"What a treat to be a knight," he said, "and to have a pavilion here." "And to have us shut up safely ?" replied Clara.
"Yes," he answered, "singing with your maids at your broidery.

I would carry your banner of white and green and heliotrope.

I would have 'W.S.P.U.' emblazoned on my shield, beneath a woman rampant." "I have no doubt," said Clara, "that you would much rather fight for a woman than let her fight for herself." "I would.