“I don’t know. She twisted her fingers tightly. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. . To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. 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. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now.
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