“How far is the Ridgeway?”
“Seventeen miles.”
“Which direction?”
“North, naturally. North again from that you see Devizes, the vale of Pewsey, and the other downs. Also towards Bath. It is something of a view. You ought to get on the Ridgeway.”
“I shouldn’t have time for that.”
“Or Beacon Hill. Or let’s do Stonehenge.”
“If it’s fine, I suggest the Rings.”
“It will be fine.” Then he murmured the names of villages.
“I wish you could live here,” said Rickie kindly. “I believe you love these particular acres more than the whole world.”
Stephen replied that this was not the case: he was only used to them. He wished they were driving out, instead of waiting for the Cadchurch train.