Julia, on the other hand, was solid. So he thought.
PART IV
CHAPTER I THE GARDEN-PARTY
Upton-On-Hill stands on a hogback of land running north and south, timbered with pines mostly, and commanding a view of half Wessex, not the Wessex of Thomas Hardy, however. You can see seven church spires from Upton, and the Roman road takes it in its sweep, becomes the Upton High Street for a moment, and passes on to be the Roman road again leading to the Downs and the distant sea.
It is a restful place, and in spring the shouting of the birds and the measured call of the cuckoo fills the village, mixing with the voice of the ever-talking pine-trees. In summer Upton sleeps amongst roses in an atmosphere of sunlight and drowsiness, sung to by the bees and the birds. The Rose Hotel stands, set back from the High Street, in its own grounds, and beside the Rose there are two other houses for refreshment, the Bricklayer's Arms and the Saracen's Head, of which more hereafter.