They lay down, all three, in a meadow by Minton Church.

On one side, by the Castle Farm, was a beautiful quivering screen of poplars.

Hawthorn was dropping from the hedges; penny daisies and ragged robin were in the field, like laughter.

William, a big fellow of twenty-three, thinner now and even a bit gaunt, lay back in the sunshine and dreamed, while she fingered with his hair.

Paul went gathering the big daisies.