And here was Kitty on her way to Aunt Harriet, a little alarmed at the prospect of her new life, but not so very alarmed, because she was so like her mother. And when she at last fell asleep her thought was not of the lost life in London, nor of the new life which lay before her, but of Darrell Grey.

The next day passed, and the next and the next. They crossed Salisbury Plain and entered the fine old town of Salisbury. They yawned and slept and laughed and chattered, were irritable and gay, taciturn and garrulous as they passed the milestones. The journey was a tedious business for all but Darrell and Kitty; to them there was pleasure in each moment as it passed. There was joy in the shaded lanes; there was excitement at dusk when a lonely stretch of road or plain had to be traversed; they were ; enthralled by each other. They loved the meals in the old inn I parlours; there was joy in getting out of the coach to stretch I cramped limbs, in settling in again to continue the journey. It I was a voyage of discovery; to Kitty each town through which they passed was new; but there were more exciting discoveries to be made, and how exhilarating it was learning of Darrell’s life, telling him about her own. He had heard of the parson’s daughter, Bess, who had run away from home. He had heard how Squire Haredon had been in love with her; how half the neighbourhood had been in love with her; it did not surprise him, if she had been anything like her daughter. They wished, how they wished, the journey would never end. The weather was perfect; it was all blue skies and unclouded sunshine, wonderful sunsets. Even the garrulous merchant and the disapproving matron added to their enjoyment. To Darrell’s amusement Kitty imitated them, for she had inherited her mother’s talent for imitations. He had never known anyone like her. She was different from the country girls of his acquaintance, and even had she not possessed such startling and alluring beauty, her gaiety and her vivacity would have made her the most charming of all the females he had ever met. As to her, she was equally delighted with him. He was just a little naive, so adoring, so longing to play the bold philanderer, and yet so awestruck and a little shy. With each hour he plunged deeper and deeper in love with her; and she followed at a respectable distance. It was an enchanting idyll, charming, delightful, but when they reached Dorchester it changed subtly.

It was a comfortable inn. The landlord came out to receive them, his honest red face beaming a welcome. He had rooms for all and to spare. A fire burned in the open grate of the parlour; throughout the inn was a delicious smell of roasting meat, appetizing to hungry travellers.

A serving maid showed Kitty her room, and when she was alone in it she flung herself down on the four-poster bed. She was tired after the day’s journey; it had been even hotter than usual and the atmosphere inside the coach had made her sleepy. She was pensive too, thinking that tomorrow she would see her Aunt Harriet for herself. Already she had made plans for meeting Darrell again.

From below there was a sudden clatter of horses’ hoofs and the sound of wheels on the cobbles. New arrivals? Curiosity sent Kitty flying from the bed to peep through the window. It was an elegant carriage and the horses which drew it were beautiful indeed. The landlord, the ostlers, even the potmen were hovering about the carriage. Some personage evidently. Then she saw him… a big man, possibly in his late thirties a red-faced man with powerful shoulders, well dressed though in a country fashion. He was scowling and was decidedly out of temper. Now the reason was obvious; one of the horses had turned lame. He was cursing his postillion as though it were his fault; he waved aside the landlord, he was cursing the roads, cursing the fools who were his servants, cursing all of them who stood there gaping at him.

“Bring me a drink!” he shouted, and the landlord fled to do his bidding. He stood there, cursing. A most unpleasant personage, thought Kitty; a hateful creature, ugly too, with his red-purple face and his rough words. The serving maid who had shown Kitty her room came out with a glass of ale on a green tray. She stood before the man, curtsied awkwardly and waited with downcast eyes while he seized the glass. He drained it, complained that it was poor stuff and roughly commanded her to bring him another, and be quick about it unless she wanted a whip about her shoulders. She hastened to obey. Kitty drew back disgusted. She had never seen such a man before; he behaved as though he were king in this small world; he lacked the manners which she had come to expect in men, because the men who had visited her mother had always possessed them. He stamped his way across the courtyard, and when he had reached the door of the inn the serving maid again appeared with another glass of ale on the tray. He drank it, not quickly as he had drunk the first; he stood back, smacking his lips. His face was still purple with rage, but now the very way he stood there showed that his rage was receding. His voice floated up to her.

“Ah! That’s better, eh, Moll!” He gripped the girl’s shoulder roughly, and with one hand drew her to him and kissed her loudly on the mouth. The ale spilled from the glass in his other , hand. Kitty heard the girl giggle. She turned away from the I window. She no longer felt in the mood to lie on her bed and ; dream. She called for hot water, and when it came she washed the dust of the day’s journey from her hands and face and went downstairs. She was hungry, and the smell of roasting meat was indeed pleasant, but as she turned the handle of the dining-room door, the landlord’s wife came running towards her.

“Ma’am,” she said, ‘if you will but go into the parlour, in a very short time…”

The woman looked harassed; Kitty hesitated.

“I thought,” she began, ‘that you said it would be ready…”

“Your fellow travellers, Ma’am, are in the parlour. The moment the dining-room is.disengaged I will let you know.”

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back. A voice cried: “God damn you, Shut that door!” The door was however pulled from Kitty’s grasp, and the man whom she had seen in the courtyard was standing in the doorway; he did not see Kitty immediately; he glared at the landlord’s wife, who stammered: “The passengers from the coach, your Honour…”

“Passengers from the coach! Let the scum wait. I tell you I won’t sit down to eat with coach passengers.” He stopped for he had seen Kitty now.

“Aha!” he continued, putting a hand to his mouth to wipe away the gravy dinging there.

“Who is the lady?”

The woman said: The lady arrived with the coach this evening… the Exeter coach, your Honour.”

“The Exeter coach.” His eyes were large and brown; he had been an exceptionally handsome man less than ten years ago. He turned to the host’s wife.

“Come, woman!” he said, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice.

“This lady will think me churlish.” He bowed to Kitty.

“You will come in. Ma’am. I should deem it an honour if you would share my table.”

Kitty noticed his hands; they were large, and dark hair grew plentifully on the backs of them. She thought of the way in which one of them had seized the not-unwilling serving maid, and she drew back into the darkness of the corridor.

“Thank you,” she said, ‘but I am not travelling alone. I will call my fellow travellers; we are all very hungry.”

In the parlour the matron was holding forth angrily.

“I never heard the like! We must wait because some important person is to be served first and prefers to dine alone! I would like him to know that I have mixed with the quality. Is a lady to be insulted because, having fallen on evil times so that it was necessary to sell her carriage, she must take the coach…?”

Kitty went to Darrell.