To his intense satisfaction, she drank, draining the last drop.
They went back together to their tree.

On the way he stopped to gather wild hyacinths for her.

He gathered slowly, in a grave and happy passion of preoccupation.

Anne stood erect in the path and watched him, and laughed the girl's laugh that he longed to hear.
It was as if she saw him for the first time through Edith's eyes, with so tender an intelligence did she take in his attitude, the absurd, the infantile intentness of his stooping figure, the still more absurdly infantile emotion of his hands.

It was the very same attitude which had melted Edith, that unhappy day when they had watched him as he walked disconsolate in the garden, and she, his wife, had hardened her heart against him.