She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. ” “I did not come,” she faltered. It was a haunted place. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. D'ye hear. The theme was a masquerade. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. She stared. "By G—! she has missed her footing. Earles asked sharply.
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