The summoning of an idea of personal power to match this woman in a contest was an effort exhausting the idea.
They passed out of Esslemont gates together at that hour of the late afternoon when South-westerly breezes, after a summer gale, drive their huge white flocks over blue fields fresh as morning, on the march to pile the crown of the sphere, and end a troubled day with grandeur.

Up the lane by the park they had open land to the heights of Croridge.
'Splendid clouds,' Fleetwood remarked.
She looked up, thinking of the happy long day's walk with her brother to the Styrian Baths.

Pleasure in the sight made her face shine superbly.
'A flying Switzerland, Mr.Woodseer says,' she replied.

'England is beautiful on days like these .-- For walking, I think the English climate very good.' He dropped a murmur: 'It should suit so good a walker,' and burned to compliment--her spirited easy stepping, and scorned himself for the sycophancy it would be before they were on the common ground of a restored understanding.

But an approval of any of her acts threatened him with enthusiasm for the whole of them, her person included; and a dam in his breast had to keep back the flood.
'You quote Woodseer to me, Carinthia.