We'll neither of us go to the vicarage again as long as we both shall live." He strolled into the garden--the good garden, with straight walks, and clipped hedges, and fair formal shape--and threw himself down upon a long chair.

He had already begun to forget the incidents of the afternoon.

Here was rest, and peace, and beauty.

How tired he was! Why did he feel so tired?
He could not tell.

A deep sense of satisfaction and repose stole over him.