or noisy, pavement or open fields, he merely had the air of striding on.
And she caught up and clutched him by the elbow. I heard her speak in her unhappy voice, you scarcely heard it for the noise of the traffic.
"You have forgotten me," she complained to him. "You have forsaken me here."
She pointed to Coventry with a wide wave of her arm and seemed to indicate other cities beyond. And he gruffly told her to keep pace with him and that he did not forsake her. And she went on with her pitiful lamentation.
"My, anemones are dead for miles," she said, "all my woods are fallen and still the cities grow. My child Man is unhappy and my other children are dying, and still the cities grow and you have forgotten me!"
And then he turned angrily on her, almost stopping in that stride of his that began when the stars were made.
"When have I ever forgotten you?" he
