only an occasional farmhouse

In this land where the population was centred in the towns itwas possible to lose sight of civilisation in a very short time,passing only an occasional farmhouse, where the women were handlingred roots in the courtyard; or a little boy lying on his elbows onthe hillside surrounded by a flock of black strong-smelling goats. 　　Save for a thread of water at the bottom, the river was merelya deep channel of dry yellow stones. On the bank grew those treeswhich Helen had said it was worth the voyage out merely to see. 　　April had burst their buds, and they bore large blossoms amongtheir glossy green leaves with petals of a thick wax-like substancecoloured an exquisite cream or pink or deep crimson. But filled withone of those unreasonable exultations which start generally from anunknown cause, and sweep whole countries and skies into their embrace,she walked without seeing. The night was encroaching upon the day. 　　Her ears hummed with the tunes she had played the night before;she sang, and the singing made her walk faster and faster. 　　She did not see distinctly where she was going, the trees andthe landscape appearing only as masses of green and blue, with anoccasional space of differently coloured sky. Faces of peopleshe had seen last night came before her; she heard their voices;she stopped singing, and began saying things over again or sayingthings differently, or inventing things that might have been said. 　　The constraint of being among strangers in a long silk dress made itunusually exciting to stride thus alone. Hewet, Hirst, Mr. Venning,Miss Allan, the music, the light, the dark trees in the garden,the dawn,--as she walked they went surging round in her head,a tumultuous background from which the present moment, with itsopportunity of doing exactly as she liked, sprung more wonderfullyvivid even than the night before.