Page:Possession (Roche, February 1923).pdf/205

 "It is," replied Derek, "and I shall need the money to make up for the loss of my thimbleberries."

"It's a lovely place," Edmund said, dropping to the grass in a sunny space. "What a view! From here those white sheep on the bluff against the blue of the lake—and that glimpse of the herd down by the creek—I'm just going to light my pipe and enjoy the whole thing. You can scarcely imagine a more perfect spot for one's first smoke in the morning—a serene view, pure air, the sound of those turkey hens gurgling to each other, now and then an apple falling. . . . Do you know, Derek, at this moment, I feel almost reconciled to this astounding marriage of yours."

"Don't let the reconciliation be too complete," returned Derek, smiling down at him with meaning.

Edmund closed his eyes and emitted a cloud of smoke that hung like a grey-blue scarf on the quiet air. An apple fell from the tree above him. Derek picked it up and saw that it was one of the sweet apples that Grace Jerrold had said she liked best, the day of Solomon Sharroe's funeral. He walked around the tree selecting the finest, which he dropped into his cap.

"Why don't you sit down and smoke?" asked his brother. "What are you doing?"

"I must go back to where Hugh is ploughing. I want to speak to him. I shan't be long."

He had made up his mind to take the apples to a rustic seat that had been built on the fringe of the Durras woods for Grace. He knew she spent a part of every fine day there, and no one would touch the apples if they were on her seat. His walk became eager with the pleasure of doing something for her. He wondered what he should do if she were already there and they met face to face.

But she was not there. He arranged the apples in a