There is the lawn which I called my quarter-deck, the place to walk of an evening.

Farewell, my little grey dwelling." Champernoun laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.
"We will find you the mate of it in Devon, old friend," he said.
But Gaspard was not listening.

"Eaucourt by the waters," he repeated like the refrain of a song, and his eyes were full of tears..