He ran off into incoherent mumblings. Suddenly, just as they reached the
dark shadows of the Arden Gate, he seemed to wake up. His voice was quite
vigorous, his eyes, tired and worn as they were, bravely scanned Brandon's
health and vigour.

"We all come to it, you know. Yes, we do. The very strongest of us. You're
a young man, Archdeacon, by my years, and I hope you may long live to
continue your good work in this place. All the same, you'll be old
yourself one day. No one escapes.... No one escapes...."

"Well, good-day to you," said the Archdeacon hurriedly. "Good-day to
you.... Hope this bright weather continues," and started rather
precipitately down the hill, leaving Morphew to find his way by himself.

His impetuosity was soon restrained. He tumbled immediately into a crowd,
and pulling himself up abruptly and looking down the High Street he saw
that the pavement on both sides of the street was black with people. He
was not a man who liked to be jostled, and he was the more uncomfortable
in that he discovered that his immediate neighbour was Samuel Hogg, the
stout and rubicund landlord of the "Dog and Pilchard" of Seatown. With him
was his pretty daughter Annie. Near to them were Mr. John Curtis and Mr.
Samuel Croppet, two of the Town Councillors. With none of these gentlemen
did the Archdeacon wish to begin a conversation.

And yet it was difficult to know what to do. The High Street pavements
were narrow, and the crowd seemed continually to increase. There was a
good deal of pushing and laughter and boisterous good-humour. To return up
the street again seemed to have something ignominious about it. Brandon
decided to satisfy his curiosity, support his dignity and indulge his