It was a brilliant day in mid-June. The afternoon light fell over a green well-wooded Welsh valley; the hay grass was ripe in the sun, the trees overhanging the river had their full richness of foliage as yet unspoilt, the wild rose was out in the hedges, covering them with white and pale pink sprays; tall spires of purple foxglove stood among the leaves, a crystal brook ran by the side of the road and forget-me-nots grew thickly in its waters; the source of the brook was a little marsh with pools here and there where there were flowers of the white ranunculus and a crowd of golden irises.