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Bittacy's white moustache and his wife's yellow shawl gleaming at either end of the little horseshoe, Sanderson with his wild black hair and shining eyes midway between them. The painter went on talking softly, continuing evidently the conversation begun with his host beneath the cedar. Mrs. Bittacy, on her guard, listened uneasily. "For trees, you see, rather conceal themselves in daylight.
The rustle of skirts warned of Mrs. Bittacy's approach. This was a sentence he could turn round another way in case she came up and pressed for explanation. "There is communion among trees all the world over," was the strange quick reply. "They always know." "They always know! You think then ?" "The winds, you see the great, swift carriers! They have their ancient rights of way about the world.
They could see from the windows of the house now especially from the drawing-room and bedroom windows straight out into the glades and depths beyond. Mrs. Bittacy's niece and nephew, who were staying on a visit at the time, enjoyed themselves immensely helping the gardeners carry off the fragments. It took two days to do this, for Mr. Bittacy insisted on the branches being moved entire.
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