‘This is his wood. The trees are singing for him.’
And I felt:
‘I have understood . . . I have understood at last!’
And I went down from the wood, after a long time. And I met Cousin
Delia coming out of the walled garden. Her arms were full of
flowers, dahlias, and chrysanthemums. Smoke was rising up, very
blue, from behind the garden wall, and she looked happy too.