She was ready, either for calm, bold approach, or equally calm and wholly non-committal retreat.
The perceptions she had brought with her filled her journey into Kent with delicious things, delicious recognition of beauties she had before known the existence of only through the reading of books, and the dwelling upon their charms as reproduced, more or less perfectly, on canvas.

She saw roll by her, with the passing of the train, the loveliness of land and picturesqueness of living which she had saved for herself with epicurean intention for years.

Her fancy, when detached from her thoughts of her sister, had been epicurean, and she had been quite aware that it was so.

When she had left the suburbs and those villages already touched with suburbanity behind, she felt herself settle into a glow of luxurious enjoyment in the freshness of her pleasure in the familiar, and yet unfamiliar, objects in the thick-hedged fields, whose broad-branched, thick-foliaged oaks and beeches were more embowering in their shade, and sweeter in their green than anything she remembered that other countries had offered her, even at their best.

Within the fields the hawthorn hedges beautifully enclosed were groups of resigned mother sheep with their young lambs about them.