So he went, as we started, and I was pleased with the chance of having speech with Sexberga.
Now there was a moaning overhead as we went through the woods along the ridge above the valley, and hot breaths of air began to play in our faces.

The clouds raced above us more swiftly, and black masses of scud drifted yet faster below them from across the hard black backs of the downs to the westward.

There was something strange in the feeling of the weather that seemed to betoken more than a storm of wind and rain, and we were silent and oppressed as we marched.
Now we came to the crest of the hill where the track goes down to the level of the river and marshes and to the causeway, which we crossed in the early morning.

I could see now how narrow the outlet of the river was between the hills where it joined the main tidal waters, and the causeway was low, and both it and the bridge were very ancient.

They call it Boreham Bridge, and it is a place that I shall not forget.
When we were halfway down the steep hill suddenly the first blast of the gale smote us in the face, and that with a roar and howl and rush that drowned all other sounds.