afterwards returned to my lodgings, and did a good morning's work.

Nothing of importance happened between the 18th and the 24th, and early
in the afternoon of the latter date I found my way to St. Pancras
Station, and booked for the station nearest Tom Temple's home. Although
it was Christmas Eve, I found an empty first-class carriage, and soon
comfortably ensconced myself therein. I don't know why, but we English
people generally try to get an empty carriage, and feel annoyed when
some one comes in to share our possession. I, like the rest of my
countrymen are apt to do in such a case, began to hope I might retain
the entire use of the carriage, at least to Leeds, when the door opened,
and a porter brought a number of wraps and shawls, evidently the
property of a lady.

"Bother it!" I mentally exclaimed, "and so I suppose I am to have some
fidgety old women for my travelling companions."

The reader will imagine from this that I was not a lady's man. At any
rate, such was the case. I had lived my thirty years without ever being
in love; indeed, I had from principle avoided the society of ladies,
that is, when they were of the flirtable or marriageable kind.

No sooner had the porter laid the articles mentioned on a corner seat,
the one farthest away from me, than their owner entered, and my
irritation vanished. It was a young lady under the ordinary size, and,
from what I could see of her, possessed of more than ordinary beauty.
Her skin was dark and clear, her eyes very dark, her mouth pleasant yet
decided, her chin square and determined. This latter feature would in
the eyes of many destroy her pretensions to beauty, but I, who liked
persons with a will of their own, admired the firm resoluteness the