They drove on up the hill, from which they could look down on the village, tucked snugly in the hollow of the rising lands, and along the top of the ridge, gaining glimpses of the blue Channel, dotted far out with the sails of trawlers, and down the hair-pin road where the pine trees stand like black sentinels, through Whitcombe to the station....
"I wish we weren't going!..." one or other of them said as they drove on.
"I'd love to have another swim," said Ninian.
"Or go out in a boat," said Henry.
The carriage entered the station-yard and they got out and walked towards the platform. There were very few people travelling by that early train, and Henry was glad because, if he could dispose of Ninian for a few moments, he thought he could settle his affairs with Mary.
"Ninian," he said, trying to speak very casually, "you and Widger can look after the luggage and tickets, can't you!"
Ninian, who had already induced one of the porters to describe a thrilling fox-hunt in which the fox took to the river and was killed, after a hard struggle, in the water, nodded his head and said "Righto!"
"Let's walk up and down," Henry said to Mary, and they walked towards the end of the platform. "It's been awf'lly nice here!" he added.
"Yes, hasn't it?" she replied. "You'll come again, won't you?"
"Ra-ther!" he exclaimed.