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. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. It is the only way. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. But the lady was not so easily won; and though she did not absolutely reject him, gave him very slight hopes.
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