Now that he could see into the place it looked more private than ever. He went in very solemnly， looking about him. Everything was very quiet inside. Even the fountain which rose near the middle of the garden made only the faintest sound. The lovely smell was all round him： it was a happy place but very serious.
He knew which was the right tree at once， partly because it stood in the very centre and partly because the great silver apples with which it was loaded shone so and cast a light of their own down on the shadowy places where the sunlight did not reach. He walked straight across to it， picked an apple， and put it in the breast pocket of his Norfolk jacket. But he couldn‘t help looking at it and smelling it before he put it away.