Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. "Well that's no reason why he should treat your ladyship so shamefully, I'm sure. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends.
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