"Elizabeth, you have no idea what it is really like.
Yesterday morning I got out of the train at Bodmin and I motored through to the village of Clawes.

After that there were five miles to walk.
There's no road, only a sort of broken track, and for the whole of that five miles there isn't even a farm building to be seen and I didn't meet a human soul.

There was a sort of pall of white-gray mists everywhere over the moor, sometimes so dense that I couldn't see my way, and you could stop and listen and there wasn't a thing to be heard, not even a sheep bell." She laughed softly..
"My dear, foolish father," she murmured, "you don't understand what a rest cure is.

This is quite all right, quite as it should be.

Poor Wenham has been seeing too many people all his life--that is why we have to keep him quiet for a time.