Both place and figure
ought to have been somewhere else by rights. Judy's surprise, however,
was quite momentary; swift, bird-like understanding followed it. Place
was a sham and humbug really; already, without leaving the schoolroom
carpet, she and Tim had been to the Metropolis and even to the East.
This was merely another of these things she didn't know she knew; she
understood another thing she didn't understand. She believed.
The rest of the party had disappeared inside the wood; only Tim
remained--pointing at this figure outlined against the trees. But
these trees belonged to a place her physical eyes had never seen.
Perhaps they were part of her mental picture of it. The figure,
anyhow, barred the way.
It was a woman, the last person in the world they wished to see just
then. The face, wearing an expression as though it tried to be happy
when it felt it ought not to be, was pointed; chin, ears, and eye-
brows pointed; nose pointed too--round doors and into corners--an
elastic nose; there was a look of struggling sweetness about the thin,
tight lips; the entire expression, from the colourless eyes down to
the tip of the decided chin, was one of marked reproach and
disapproval that at the same time fought with an effort to be
understanding, gentle, wise.
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