Now the postmaster was an acquaintance of Christopher's, but, as regarded
putting that question to him, there was a difficulty. Everything turned
upon whether the postmaster at the moment of asking would be in his under-
government manner, or in the manner with which mere nature had endowed
him. In the latter case his reply would be all that could be wished; in
the former, a man who had sunk in society might as well put his tongue
into a mousetrap as make an inquiry so obviously outside the pale of
legality as was this.

So he postponed his business for the present, and refrained from entering
till he passed by after dinner, when pleasant malt liquor, of that
capacity for cheering which is expressed by four large letter X's
marching in a row, had refilled the globular trunk of the postmaster and
neutralized some of the effects of officiality. The time was well
chosen, but the inquiry threatened to prove fruitless: the postmaster had
never, to his knowledge, seen the writing before. Christopher was
turning away when a clerk in the background looked up and stated that
some young lady had brought a packet with such an address upon it into
the office two days earlier to get it stamped.

'Do you know her?' said Christopher.

'I have seen her about the neighbourhood. She goes by every morning; I
think she comes into the town from beyond the common, and returns again
between four and five in the afternoon.'

'What does she wear?'

'A white wool jacket with zigzags of black braid.'