'led an' fell. Yous'll have to shoot it, I s'pose!"

They supposed they would. The driver had been drinking and in his
drunkenness he had thrashed the poor beast. ... "But he'll never thrash
another horse, the same lad," said the man who told them of the
circumstances. "He was pitched out on his head, an' he wasn't worth
picking up when they lifted him. Killed dead, an' him as drunk as a
fiddler! Begod, I wouldn't like to die that way! It 'ud be a quare thing
to go afore your Maker an' you stinkin' wi' drink!"

The men went on, leaving Sheila and Henry together. She stood watching
the men, oblivious seemingly of Henry's presence, until he put out his
hand and touched hers.

"Sheila!" he said.

She snatched her hand away from him. "Lave me alone!" she exclaimed, and
moved to the side of the road further from him.

"I meant to try and stop it," he said, "but somehow I couldn't I ... I
did my best!"

He had followed her and was standing before her, pleading with her, but
she would not look at him. He stood for a while, thinking of something
to say, and then put out his hand again and touched hers. "Sheila," he
said.

She swung round swiftly and struck him in the face with her clenched
fist.

"How dare you touch me!" she cried and her eyes were full of fury.

"Sheila!"

"Don't lay a finger on me ... you ... you coward you! You were afeard to
stop it, an' you run away, cryin' like a wee ba!" He tried to come to
her again, but she shrunk away from him. "Don't come a-near me," she
shouted at him. "I couldn't thole you near me. I'd be sick!..."

She stopped in her speech and walked away from him. He stared after her,
unable to think or move. He could feel the smart of her blow tingling in
his face, and he put his hand up mechanically to his cheek, and as he
did so, he saw that his hand was still trembling. He could see her
walking quickly on, her head erect and her hands clenched tightly by her
side. He wanted to run after her, but he could not move. He tried to
call to her, but his lips would not open....

The light was fading out of the sky, and the night was covering up the
hills and fields, but still he stood there, staring up the road along
which she had passed out of his sight. People passed him in the dusk and
greeted him, but he did not answer, nor was he aware when they turned to
look at him. Once, he was conscious of a loud report and a clatter of
feet, but he did not think of it or of what it meant. In