Shewalkedupthesoftgrassyride，screenedoneitherhandbynut-bushes，justnowheavywithclustersoftwosandthreesandfours。Alittlewayon，thetrackshepursuedwascrossedbyasimilaroneatrightangles。HereGracestopped；somefewyardsupthetransverseridethebuxomSukeDamsonwasvisible——hergowntuckeduphighthroughherpocket-hole，andnobonnetonherhead——
intheactofpullingdownboughsfromwhichshewasgatheringandeatingnutswithgreatrapidity，herloverTimTangsstandingnearherengagedinthesamepleasantmeal。
Crack，crackwentSuke’sjawseverysecondortwo。ByanautomaticchainofthoughtGrace’smindrevertedtothetooth-
drawingscenedescribedbyherhusband；andforthefirsttimeshewonderedifthatnarrativewerereallytrue，Susan’sjawsbeingsoobviouslysoundandstrong。Graceturneduptowardsthenut-
gatherers，andconqueredherreluctancetospeaktothegirlwhowasalittleinadvanceofTim。“Good-evening，Susan。”shesaid。