said, "Thank you,
sir." That bitter sense of injury was still in Alban's mind as he looked
after her. "What a pity she should grow up to be a woman!" he said to
himself.

The adventure of the broken jug had delayed his return to his lodgings
by more than half an hour. When he reached the road once more, the cheap
up-train from the North had stopped at the station. He heard the ringing
of the bell as it resumed the journey to London.

One of the passengers (judging by the handbag that she carried) had not
stopped at the village.

As she advanced toward him along the road, he remarked that she was
a small wiry active woman--dressed in bright colors, combined with
a deplorable want of taste. Her aquiline nose seemed to be her
most striking feature as she came nearer. It might have been fairly
proportioned to the rest of her face, in her younger days, before her
cheeks had lost flesh and roundness. Being probably near-sighted, she
kept her eyes half-closed; there were cunning little wrinkles at the
corners of them. In spite of appearances, she was unwilling to present
any outward acknowledgment of the march of time. Her hair was palpably
dyed--her hat was jauntily set on her head, and ornamented with a gay
feather. She walked with a light tripping step, swinging her bag, and
holding her head up smartly. Her manner, like her dress, said as plainly
as words could speak, "No matter how long I may have lived, I mean to
be young and charming to the end of my days." To Alban's surprise she
stopped and addressed him.

"Oh, I beg your pardon. Could you tell me if I am in the right road to
Miss Ladd's school?"

She spoke with nervous rapidity of articulation, and with a singularly
unpleasant smile. It parted her thin lips just widely enough to show her
suspiciously beautiful teeth; and it opened her keen gray eyes in the
strangest manner. The higher lid rose so as to disclose, for a moment,
the upper part of the eyeball, and to give her the appearance--not of
a woman bent on making herself agreeable, but of a woman staring in a
panic of terror. Careless to conceal the unfavorable impression that she
had produced on him, Alban answered roughly, "Straight on," and tried to
pass her.

She stopped him with a peremptory gesture. "I have treated you
politely," she said, "and how do you treat me in return? Well! I am not
surprised. Men are all brutes by nature--and you are a man. 'Straight
on'?" she repeated contemptuously; "I sho