"You've got town feet, somehow or other, you have." They found a little gate, and soon were in a broad green alley of the wood, with a new thicket of fir and pine on one hand, an old oak glade dipping down on the other.

And among the oaks the bluebells stood in pools of azure, under the new green hazels, upon a pale fawn floor of oak-leaves.

He found flowers for her.
"Here's a bit of new-mown hay," he said; then, again, he brought her forget-me-nots.

And, again, his heart hurt with love, seeing her hand, used with work, holding the little bunch of flowers he gave her.

She was perfectly happy.
But at the end of the riding was a fence to climb.