It had yew-hedges and thick clumps and borders of yellow crocuses round the lawn.
"See," said Paul to Miriam, "what a quiet garden!" She saw the dark yews and the golden crocuses, then she looked gratefully.

He had not seemed to belong to her among all these others; he was different then--not her Paul, who understood the slightest quiver of her innermost soul, but something else, speaking another language than hers.

How it hurt her, and deadened her very perceptions.

Only when he came right back to her, leaving his other, his lesser self, as she thought, would she feel alive again.

And now he asked her to look at this garden, wanting the contact with her again.