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. If the boy did not love the girl, why the devil had he dragged her into this marriage? Spurlock was a bit shaky bodily, but his brain was functioning clearly; and, it might be added, swiftly—as the brain always acts when confronted by a perplexing riddle. Her skin prickled. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable.
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