HM Prison Portland

Because he saw that she loved flowers, he had engaged a new gardener for their stay.

And he had shown, in one particular instance, a quite surprising thoughtfulness for a class of unhappy men with whom he could have had no concern, the convicts in Portland Prison.

That instance remained for a long time vividly in her mind, and at a later time she spoke of it with consequences of a far-reaching kind.

She thought then, as she thought now, only of the kindness of her father's action, and for the first week of Heine's visit that thought remained with her.

And it did not occur to Sylvia, who was of a natural modesty of thought, that he had any other intention of throwing them thus together than to rid himself of a guest with whom he had little in common.

But a week later she changed her mind.

She was driving Walter Heine one morning into Weymouth, and as the dog cart turned into the road beside the bay, and she saw suddenly before her the sea sparkling in the sunlight, the dark battleships at their firing practice, and over against her, through a shimmering haze of heat, the crouching mass of Portland, she drew in a breath of pleasure.

It seemed to her that her companion gave the same sign of enjoyment, and she turned to him with some surprise.

Because he saw that she loved flowers, he had engaged a new gardener for their stay.

And he had shown, in one particular instance, a quite surprising thoughtfulness for a class of unhappy men with whom he could have had no concern, the convicts in Portland Prison.

That instance remained for a long time vividly in her mind, and at a later time she spoke of it with consequences of a far-reaching kind.

She thought then, as she thought now, only of the kindness of her father's action, and for the first week of Heine's visit that thought remained with her.

And it did not occur to Sylvia, who was of a natural modesty of thought, that he had any other intention of throwing them thus together than to rid himself of a guest with whom he had little in common.

But a week later she changed her mind.

She was driving Walter Heine one morning into Weymouth, and as the dog cart turned into the road beside the bay, and she saw suddenly before her the sea sparkling in the sunlight, the dark battleships at their firing practice, and over against her, through a shimmering haze of heat, the crouching mass of Portland, she drew in a breath of pleasure.

It seemed to her that her companion gave the same sign of enjoyment, and she turned to him with some surprise.