women) had long since decided that his manners were offensive,
and his temper incurably bad. The men who happened to pass him on
the footpath said "Good-morning" grudgingly. The women took no
notice of him--with one exception. She was young and saucy, and
seeing him walking at the top of his speed on the way to the
railway station, she called after him, "Don't be in a hurry, sir!
You're in plenty of time for the London train."

To her astonishment he suddenly stopped. His reputation for
rudeness was so well established that she moved away to a safe
distance, before she ventured to look at him again. He took no
notice of her--he seemed to be considering with himself. The
frolicsome young woman had done him a service: she had suggested
an idea.

"Suppose I go to London?" he thought. "Why not?--the school is
breaking up for the holidays--and _she_ is going away like the
rest of them." He looked round in the direction of the
schoolhouse. "If I go back to wish her good-by, she will keep out
of my way, and part with me at the last moment like a stranger.
After my experience of women, to be in love again--in love with a
girl who is young enough to be my daughter--what a fool, what a
driveling, degraded fool I must be!"

Hot tears rose in his eyes. He dashed them away savagely, and
went on again faster than ever--resolved to pack up at once at
his lodgings in the village, and to take his departure by the
next train.

At the point where the footpath led into the road, he came to a