A drive-way led to the barn, and on the farther side a row of apple-trees stood.

There was a fresh wind blowing, and the apple blossoms were floating about.

The drive was quite white with them in places, and they were half impaled upon the sharp green blades of grass.
Over through the trees Mrs.Field could see the white top of a market wagon in a neighboring yard, and the pink dress of a woman who stood beside it trading.

She watched them with a dull wonder.

What had she now to do with market wagons and daily meals and housewifely matters?
That fair-haired woman in the pink dress seemed to her like a woman of another planet.
This narrow-lived old country woman could not consciously moralize.
She was no philosopher, but she felt, without putting it into thoughts, as if she had descended far below the surface of all things, and found out that good and evil were the root and the life of them, and the outside leaves and froth and flowers were fathoms away, and no longer to be considered.
At ten o'clock she put on her bonnet and shawl, and set out for the lawyer's office.