With his guidance he passed the fringe of Bolderwood Walk, famous for old ash and yew, through Mark Ash with its giant beech-trees, and on through the Knightwood groves, where the giant oak was already a great tree, but only one of many comely brothers.

They plodded along together, the woodman and Alleyne, with little talk on either side, for their thoughts were as far asunder as the poles.

The peasant's gossip had been of the hunt, of the bracken, of the gray-headed kites that had nested in Wood Fidley, and of the great catch of herring brought back by the boats of Pitt's Deep.

The clerk's mind was on his brother, on his future--above all on this strange, fierce, melting, beautiful woman who had broken so suddenly into his life, and as suddenly passed out of it again.

So _distrait_ was he and so random his answers, that the woodman took to whistling, and soon branched off upon the track to Burley, leaving Alleyne upon the main Christchurch road.
Down this he pushed as fast as he might, hoping at every turn and rise to catch sight of his companions of the morning.