Philip, whose one physical advantage was his height,
felt annoyed at her implied indifference to it.

"May I conclude that you like him?"

She replied decisively again, "As far as I have seen
him, I do."

At that moment the carriage entered a little wood, which
lay brown and sombre across the cultivated hill. The trees
of the wood were small and leafless, but noticeable for
this--that their stems stood in violets as rocks stand in the
summer sea. There are such violets in England, but not so
many. Nor are there so many in Art, for no painter has the
courage. The cart-ruts were channels, the hollow lagoons;
even the dry white margin of the road was splashed, like a
causeway soon to be submerged under the advancing tide of
spring. Philip paid no attention at the time: he was
thinking what to say next. But his eyes had registered the
beauty, and next March he did not forget that the road to
Monteriano must traverse innumerable flowers.

"As far as I have seen him, I do like him," repeated
Miss Abbott, after a pause.

He thought she sounded a little defiant, and crushed her
at once.

"What is he, please? You haven't told me that. What's
his position?"