But Mrs.Barfoot knew that Captain Barfoot was on his way to Mrs.Flanders.
Indeed he was well on his way there, having left the tram, and seeing Dods Hill to the south-east, green against a blue sky that was suffused with dust colour on the horizon.

He was marching up the hill.

In spite of his lameness there was something military in his approach.

Mrs.
Jarvis, as she came out of the Rectory gate, saw him coming, and her Newfoundland dog, Nero, slowly swept his tail from side to side.
"Oh, Captain Barfoot!" Mrs.Jarvis exclaimed.
"Good-day, Mrs.Jarvis," said the Captain.
They walked on together, and when they reached Mrs.Flanders's gate Captain Barfoot took off his tweed cap, and said, bowing very courteously: "Good-day to you, Mrs.Jarvis." And Mrs.Jarvis walked on alone.
She was going to walk on the moor.

Had she again been pacing her lawn late at night?
Had she again tapped on the study window and cried: "Look at the moon, look at the moon, Herbert!" And Herbert looked at the moon.
Mrs.Jarvis walked on the moor when she was unhappy, going as far as a certain saucer-shaped hollow, though she always meant to go to a more distant ridge; and there she sat down, and took out the little book hidden beneath her cloak and read a few lines of poetry, and looked about her.