“Did she?” said Mattie, with a nervous start. “Did she really, Wolf?” And she, too, threw an anxious glance round the field. “I wouldn’t like her feelings to be hurt,” she added. “They would be, I know, if she tried to speak to Olwen.”

Wolf’s mind reverted violently to the solitary grey feather in the Urn-Burial . At that moment he felt as though not anyone⁠ ⁠… not Gerda herself⁠ ⁠… could stop him from following that fragile figure if he caught sight of it in this crowd!

But Mattie was now waving her hand to Olwen, whose airy boat had begun to slacken its speed.

They moved together towards the swing; and Wolf rushed forward to help the child to the ground. As he lifted her out, he felt his forehead brushed by the floating ends of her loosened hair.

She put her thin arms round him and hugged him tight as soon as he set her down.