He had the season-ticket, which had cost such bitterness, in his waistcoat pocket.
He loved it with its bars of yellow across.

His mother packed his dinner in a small, shut-up basket, and he set off at a quarter to seven to catch the 7.15 train.

Mrs.Morel came to the entry-end to see him off.
It was a perfect morning.

From the ash tree the slender green fruits that the children call "pigeons" were twinkling gaily down on a little breeze, into the front gardens of the houses.

The valley was full of a lustrous dark haze, through which the ripe corn shimmered, and in which the steam from Minton pit melted swiftly.