"I'm frightened."

"Why?"

"Oh, give me the jug."

She almost snatched it out of his hand. If she let the precious
minutes slip away, there might be another beating in store for
her at the drain: her father was not of an indulgent disposition
when his children were late in bringing his beer. On the point of
hurrying away, without a word of farewell, she remembered the
laws of politeness as taught at the infant school--and dropped
her little curtsey--and 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,