For generations the trees in it had sprung up, flourished, and fallen as they pleased.

There were corners of it where the north-west wind sweeping over the bare down above it had made pathways of death and ruin; sinister places where the fallen or broken trunks of the great beech trees, as they had crashed down-hill upon and against each other, had assumed all sorts of grotesque and phantasmal attitudes, as in a trampled melee of giants; there were other parts where slender plumed trees, rising branchless to a great height above open spaces, took the shape from a distance of Italian stone palms, and gave a touch of southern or romantic grace to the English midland scene; while at their feet, the tops of the more crowded sections of the wood lay in close, billowy masses of leaf, the oaks vividly green, the beeches already aflame.
'Who says there's a war ?' said Captain Chicksands, sinking luxuriously into a sunny bed of dry leaves, conveniently placed in front of Elizabeth.

'Miss Bremerton, you and I were, I understand, at the same University ?' Elizabeth assented.
'Is it your opinion that Universities are any good ?--that after the war there are going to be any Universities ?' 'Only those that please the Labour Party!' put in Mannering.
'Oh, I'm not afraid of the Labour Party--awfully good fellows, many of them.

The sooner they make a Government the better.

They've got to learn their lessons like the rest of us.