He made no reply.
They had struck into a half-made road across a warren.

A cart-track led at right-angles to a gravel pit, beyond which the chimneys of a cottage rose amongst a clump of trees at the border of a thick wood.

Tussocks of feathery grass covered the rough surface of the ground, and out of these the larks soared into the haze of sunshine.

On the far horizon, over a countless succession of fields and hedges, rose a line of downs.
Soames led till they had crossed to the far side, and there he stopped.
It was the chosen site; but now that he was about to divulge the spot to another he had become uneasy.
"The agent lives in that cottage," he said; "he'll give us some lunch--we'd better have lunch before we go into this matter." He again took the lead to the cottage, where the agent, a tall man named Oliver, with a heavy face and grizzled beard, welcomed them.

During lunch, which Soames hardly touched, he kept looking at Bosinney, and once or twice passed his silk handkerchief stealthily over his forehead.
The meal came to an end at last, and Bosinney rose.
"I dare say you've got business to talk over," he said; "I'll just go and nose about a bit." Without waiting for a reply he strolled out.
Soames was solicitor to this estate, and he spent nearly an hour in the agent's company, looking at ground-plans and discussing the Nicholl and other mortgages; it was as it were by an afterthought that he brought up the question of the building site.
"Your people," he said, "ought to come down in their price to me, considering that I shall be the first to build." Oliver shook his head.
The site you've fixed on, Sir, he said, "is the cheapest we've got.
Sites at the top of the slope are dearer by a good bit." "Mind," said Soames, "I've not decided; it's quite possible I shan't build at all.