She walked on, with her stern, impassive old face set straight ahead.

Once they met a young girl who made her think of Lois, her floating draperies brushed against her black gown, for a second there was a pale, innocent little face looking up into her own.
It was not a very long walk to the Maxwell house.
"Here we are," said the lawyer, coldly, and unlatched a gate, and held it open with stiff courtesy for his companion to pass.
They proceeded in silence up the long curve of walk which led to the front door.

The walk was brown and slippery with pine needles.

Tall old pine trees stood in groups about the yard.

There were also elm and horse-chestnut trees.