uld be accompanied as far as Knype
and stowed with personal attentions into the big train. But on this
occasion Hilda had wished otherwise. "I should _prefer_ nobody to go
with me to Knype," she had said, in a characteristic tone, to Janet. It
was enough. The family had wondered; but it was enough. The family knew
its singular, its mysterious Hilda. And instead of at Knype, the
leave-takings had occurred at the little wayside station of Bleakridge,
with wavy moorland behind, factory chimneys in front, and cinder and
shawd heaps all around. Hilda had told Janet: "Mr. Cannon may be meeting
me at Knype. He's probably going to London too." And the discreet Janet,
comprehending Hilda, had not even mentioned this fact to the rest of the
family.

George Cannon, in a light summer suit and straw hat, was already on the
platform at Knype. Hilda had feared that at Bleakridge he might be
looking out of the window of the local train, which started from
Turnhill; she had desired not to meet him in the presence of any of the
Orgreaves. But either he had caught the previous train to Knype, or he
had driven down. Holding a Gladstone bag and a stick in one hand, he
stood talking to another man of about his own age and height. The
conversation was vivacious, at any rate on George Cannon's part. Hilda
passed close by him amid the populous stir of the expectant platform. He
saw her, turned, and raised his hat, but in a perfunctory, preoccupied
manner; and instantly resumed the speech to his companion. Hilda
recognized the latter. It was 'young Lawton,' son and successor to 'old
Lawton,' the most famous lawyer in the Five Towns. Young Lawton had a
branch office at Turnhill, and lived in an important house half-way
between Turnhill and Bursley, where, behind the Town Hall, was the
historic principal office of the firm.

The express came loudly in, and Hilda, having climbed into a
second-class compartment, leaned out from it, to descry her porter and
bestow on him a threepenny bit. George Cannon and young Lawton were
still in argument, and apparently quite indifferent to the train. Young
Lawton's thin face had its usual faint, harsh smile; his limbs were
moveless in an exasperating and obstinate calm; Hilda detested the man
from his mere looks. But George Cannon was very obviously under
excitement. His face was flushed; he moved his free arm violently--even
the Gladstone bag swung to and fro; he punctuated his sentences with
sharp, angry nod