She wanted to go to the mill-pond above.

The big mill-house was deserted, save for a labourer and his wife who lived in the kitchen.

So she passed through the empty farm-yard and through the wilderness of a garden, and mounted the bank by the sluice.

When she got to the top, to see the old, velvety surface of the pond before her, she noticed a man on the bank, tinkering with a punt.

It was Birkin sawing and hammering away.
She stood at the head of the sluice, looking at him.