SENSE OF DIRECTION 139 



sitting behind her. If she had been a great lady in a 

 drawing-room, who had taken offence at some in- 

 judicious or impertinent remark I had dropped in 

 conversation with her, and had got up and walked 

 away without a word or look ruling my existence 

 out she could not have done it better. She walked 

 straight away to some other place in the park where 

 she wished to be. To that spot she would go in a 

 bee-line, not thinking about the right direction or 

 indeed about anything, but with a mind agreeably 

 occupied with the sights and sounds and scents that 

 came to her. 



Then came my turn to go as it was now late in 

 the day, and after some moments' hesitation as to 

 which gate would suit me best for an exit on that 

 afternoon Richmond, Kingston or Sheen I too got 

 up and walked off, occupied with my own thoughts 

 and also, like the hind, amusing myself with the 

 sights and sounds and scents, leaving the whole 

 business of getting to my destination to my legs 

 and the compass in my brain. 



Here, too, as in the sense of equilibrium, she had 

 an immense advantage over me incalculably great, 

 if night and thick darkness had surprised us still 

 together at that spot. Not in Richmond Park only, 

 but on Exmoor or in any vast deer-forest in the 

 North, she would go by night or day unhesitatingly 

 in a direct line to her destination. But no sooner 

 am I in a place I don't know and lose sight of the 

 sun, or have been making many turns in a wood, 

 than I lose the sense of direction. Thus, if I go to 



