I'm very sorry about this disaster of theirs, it has given me courage to rush matters a bit."
Derek nodded. His mind was wandering, as it had a habit of doing lately. He was thinking of those sweet apples on the rustic seat, and wondering whether she had found them yet, whether she could care for a little thing like that in troubled days like these. She seemed far away from him, yet always on the fringe of his thoughts. She was like a loved person of whom one dreams, yet whose face one cannot clearly see.
Edmund, strolling through the woods of Durras, hoping to meet Grace, came across the rustic seat, and sat down. He wondered how those seven smooth, yellow apples came there. They looked as though they were waiting for someone. He decided to wait with them.
Birds, free from family cares, sang all about him, making a happy, careless jargon of song that was delightful. A black squirrel, with an enormous brush, clung head downward on a tree nearby and rated him fluently for his intrusion. He picked up one of the apples and began to eat it.
He was in a mood of happy confidence, and when he saw Grace approaching he felt that good fortune was with him that day indeed. He tossed the remainder of the apple under the seat and sprang forward to meet her.
"I am a lucky fellow," he said. "I've been wanting so much to meet you this morning, and here you are, and here are birds to greet you, and a secluded seat, and apples—golden apples—by the Rood!"
He was excited, and he did not try to conceal his excitement. That was not his way. Rather he encouraged himself in his emotions as though he were a spectator who
