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beyond the town.
    â€œHuh!” said Brid. “Not interested in our shows, isn’t Mr. High-and-Mighty! Did you see him, Moril? Drinking in every word!”
    â€œYes,” said Moril.
    While the red steak fizzled over the fire, Brid said mock-innocently to Kialan: “Father told one of the Adon stories at the show. Do you know them at all?”
    â€œYes. And a dead bore they are, too,” said Kialan. “All that magic!”
    â€œYou would say that!” said Moril. “I saw—”
    â€œSilence!” said Clennen. “You’re interrupting the steak. Not another word until it’s ready to eat.”
    The steak was certainly worthy of respect. Even Kialan had nothing to say against it. They went on again after supper. In his carefree way, Clennen seemed to be quite as anxious as Moril to see the North again. He refused to let Olob choose them a meadow until the sun was nearly down and the sky ahead and to the left was a mass of lilac clouds barred with red.
    â€œImagine that over the peaks of the North Dales,” he said. “But even in the South, Mark Wood is fine at this time of year. There’s nothing to beat a tall beech in spring. And do you know the Marsh at all, Kialan?”
    â€œA little,” said Kialan.
    â€œIf we’d time, I’d take you through it just for the flowers,” said Clennen. “But it’s too far east, more’s the pity. The ducks there make your mouth water.”
    â€œThere are rabbits in the South Dales,” Dagner suggested.
    â€œSo there are,” said Clennen. “Look the snares out tomorrow.”
    By the end of the following day the landscape had begun to change. The rolling gray-green slopes gave way to higher, greener hills, and there were more trees. It was like a foretaste of the North. Moril began to feel pleasantly excited, although he knew that they were only entering the South Dales. Tholian, Earl of the South Dales, was reputed to be a tyrant fiercer even than Henda. It was still a long way to the North. Beyond these green hills lay the Uplands and Mark Wood, before they came to Flennpass and the North at last.
    Nevertheless, budding apple trees made a pleasant change from rows of vines. The nights were slightly cooler, and rabbits were plentiful. Every night Dagner went off to set snares round about the camp, and to Moril’s surprise, Kialan made his first helpful gesture and went with Dagner.
    â€œIt’s only because he likes killing things,” Brid said. “He’s that type.”
    Whatever the reason, Kialan was surprisingly good at catching and skinning rabbits, and Lenina was good at rabbit stew. Since they had wine as well, they fed very well for the next few days. Moril was almost grateful to Kialan. But Brid was not in the least grateful because every time they stopped in a town or village to give a show, Kialan would put on his act of not being interested and announce that he would meet them outside the town. And every time, unfailingly, they would see him among the audience, as interested as anyone there.
    â€œTwo-faced hypocrite!” Brid said indignantly. “He’s just trying to make us feel small.”
    â€œThat wouldn’t do you any harm,” Lenina said, in her dry way. Brid was more indignant than ever. It was becoming clear that Lenina rather approved of Kialan. Not that she said anything. It was more that she did not say any of the things she might have done. And when Kialan tore his good coat in the wood, Lenina mended it for him with careful neat stitches.
    Kialan seemed far more surprised than grateful when Lenina handed him the mended coat. “Oh—thanks,” he said. “You shouldn’t have bothered.” His face was red, and he seemed actually a little scornful of Lenina for doing it.
    â€œNothing to what I am!” said Brid. “He can go in rags for all I care.”
    The day after this they entered the part of