They strolled on, refashioning these legendary gardens.

She was, as he felt, glad merely to stroll and loiter and let her fancy touch upon anything her eyes encountered--a bush, a park-keeper, a decorated goose--as if the relaxation soothed her.

The warmth of the afternoon, the first of spring, tempted them to sit upon a seat in a glade of beech-trees, with forest drives striking green paths this way and that around them.

She sighed deeply.
"It's so peaceful," she said, as if in explanation of her sigh.

Not a single person was in sight, and the stir of the wind in the branches, that sound so seldom heard by Londoners, seemed to her as if wafted from fathomless oceans of sweet air in the distance.
While she breathed and looked, Denham was engaged in uncovering with the point of his stick a group of green spikes half smothered by the dead leaves.