It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. “It was my sister Anna. "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate.
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