Far away the high trees of Chanctonbury Ring stood out against the sky.
"Dick has secrets," Sybil said, "secrets from me.

It used not to be so.

I have always known how a want of sympathy makes a child hide what he feels and thinks, and drives him in upon himself, to feed his thoughts with imaginings and dreams.

I have seen it.

I don't believe that anything but harm ever comes of it.