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Chapter 8

           AllthiswouldhavetobedishedupfortheyoungmenatCardiffnextmonth,hethought;here,onhisterrace,hewasmerelyforagingandpicnicking(hethrewawaytheleafthathehadpickedsopeevishly)likeamanwhoreachesfromhishorsetopickabunchofroses,orstuffshispocketswithnutsasheamblesathiseasethroughthelanesandfieldsofacountryknowntohimfromboyhood.Itwasallfamiliar;thisturning,thatstile,thatcutacrossthefields.Hourshewouldspendthus,withhispipe,ofanevening,thinkingupanddownandinandoutoftheoldfamiliarlanesandcommons,whichwereallstuckaboutwiththehistoryofthatcampaignthere,thelifeofthisstatesmanhere,withpoemsandwithanecdotes,withfigurestoo,thisthinker,thatsoldier;allverybriskandclear;butatlengththelane,thefield,thecommon,thefruitfulnut-treeandthefloweringhedgeledhimontothatfurtherturnoftheroadwherehedismountedalways,tiedhishorsetoatree,andproceededonfootalone.Hereachedtheedgeofthelawnandlookedoutonthebaybeneath.

           Itwashisfate,hispeculiarity,whetherhewisheditornot,tocomeoutthusonaspitoflandwhichtheseaisslowlyeatingaway,andtheretostand,likeadesolatesea-bird,alone.

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