The vine thrust through the trellis faster and faster, dividing, throwing out little curls and tendrils; then leaves and millions of leaves, each leaf unfolding about a drop of dew, which trickled and fell and tinkled like a bird's song.
The beauty and scent of the vine distressed him.

He wanted to cry out, for it was hiding the sky.

Then he heard the tramp of feet in the distance, and knew that they threatened the vine, and with that he wanted to save it.

But the feet came nearer and nearer, tramping terribly.
He could not bear it.

He ran to the stairs, stole down them, opened the front door cautiously, and slipped outside.