The lake was still and blue.

High overhead a heron floated.

Opposite, the wood heaped on the hill, green and still.
"It's a wild road, mother," said Paul.

"Just like Canada." "Isn't it beautiful!" said Mrs.Morel, looking round.
"See that heron--see--see her legs ?" He directed his mother, what she must see and what not.

And she was quite content.
"But now," she said, "which way?
He told me through the wood." The wood, fenced and dark, lay on their left.
"I can feel a bit of a path this road," said Paul.