Explore "Mary Olivier: a Life" by May Sinclair on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mary went slowly up the lane between the garden wall and the thorn hedge.
The air, streaming towards her from the flat fields, had the tang of cold, glittering water; the sweet, grassy smell of the green corn blades swam on it. The young thorn leaves smelt of almonds and of their own bitter green.