A melodramatic story of exiles in a far country. From “ Noughts and Crosses " 1893 A mile beyond the fishing village, as you follow the road that climbs inland towards Tregarrick, the two tall hills to right and left of the coombe diverge to make room for a third, set like a wedge in the throat of the vale. Here the road branches into two, with a sign-post at the angle ; and between the sign-post and the gray scarp of the hill there lies an acre of waste ground that the streams have turned into a marsh. This is Loose-heels. Long before I learnt the name's meaning, in the days when I trod the lower road with slate and satchel, this spot was a favorite of mine — ^but chiefly in July, when the monkey-flower was out, and the marsh aflame with it.