He was in the thirteenth book: [Greek: os d hot aner dorpoio lilaietai, o te pauemar neion an helketon boe oinope pekton arotron] "As when a man longeth for supper, for whom, the livelong day, two wine-coloured oxen have dragged the fitted plough through the fallow, and joyful to such an one is the going down of the sun that sends him to his meal, for his knees tremble as he goes--so welcome to Odysseus was the setting of the sun": ...
He lost himself in familiar joy--the joy of the Greek itself, of the images of the Greek life.

He walked with the Greek ploughman, he smelt the Greek earth, his thoughts caressed the dark oxen under the yoke.
These for him had savour and delight; the wide Canadian fields had none.
Philip Gaddesden meanwhile could not be induced to leave the car.

While the others were going through the splendid stables and cowsheds, kept like a queen's parlour, he and the pretty girl were playing at bob-cherry in the saloon, to the scandal of Yerkes, who, with the honour of the car and the C.P.R.and Canada itself on his shoulders, could not bear that any of his charges should shuffle out of the main item in the official programme.
But Elizabeth, as before, saw everything transfigured; the splendid Shire horses; the famous bull, progenitor of a coming race; the sheds full of glistening cows and mottled calves.

These smooth, sleek creatures, housed there for the profit of Canada and her farm life, seemed to Elizabeth no less poetic than the cattle of Helios to Delaine.
She loved the horses, and the patient, sweet-breathed kine; she found even a sympathetic mind for the pigs.
Presently when her host, the owner, left her to explain some of his experiments to the rest of the party, she fell to Anderson alone.

And as she strolled at his side, Anderson found the June afternoon pass with extraordinary rapidity.