The plovers were crying over the freshly-turned ploughed fields, a whole world of wild birds and insects seemed to have imparted a sense of movement and life to what only a few days ago had been a land of desolation, a country silent and winterbound.

Colour was asserting itself in all manner of places--in the green of the sprouting grass, the shimmer of the sun upon the sea-stained sands, in the silvery blue of the Braster creeks.

Lady Angela drew a long breath of content as we paused for a moment at the summit of the cliffs.
"And you wonder," she murmured, "that I left London for this!" "Yes, I still wonder," I answered.

"The beauties of this place are for the lonely--I mean the lonely in disposition.

For you life in the busy places should just be opening all her fascinations.