"What sort of men were they?" I asked.
"All sorts of men, sir," answered the station-master, "but most
of them were shabby-looking fellows. I wondered where some of
them had got the money for their ride."
The vague feeling of uneasiness which had already attacked me
grew stronger. Although I fought against it, calling myself an
old woman and a coward, I must confess to an impulse which almost
made me beg the station-master's company on my walk; but, besides
being ashamed to exhibit a timidity apparently groundless, I was
reluctant to draw attention to myself in any way. I would not for
the world have it supposed that I carried anything of value.
"Well, there's no help for it," said I, and, buttoning my heavy
coat about me, I took my hand-bag and stick in one hand, and
asked my way to the hotel. My misfortunes had broken down the
station-master's indifference, and he directed me in a
sympathetic tone.
"Straight along the road, sir," said he, "between the poplars,
for hard on half a mile; then the houses begin, and your hotel is
in the first square you come to, on the right."
I thanked him curtly (for I had not quite forgiven him his
earlier incivility), and started on my walk, weighed down by my
big coat and the handbag.
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