or spread
even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. She
withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. Away up
on the hillside was the little country railway station. She fixed her
eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow
of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the
valley for the white smoke of the train.

She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists
who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the
train unnoticed. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Until the last moment she was afraid.

Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a
_fiacre_. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she
made her way as far as the Champs Elysees, and sank down upon an empty
seat.

She had not at first the power for concealment. Her nerves were
shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. She sat there, a
mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering
glances. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which
she had found. Yet she never once thought of changing it. A person of
somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her
life perfectly natural. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her,
fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was
continually attracting.

Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. He
was perhaps forty-five years of age. He was dressed with the utmost
care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action
were in some way a condescension. He was alert, well-groomed, and
yet--perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type--there was
a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. He too looked
at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his
eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally
came to a dead stop. He scratched his upper lip reflectively.

It was a habit of his to talk to himself. In the present case it did
not matter, as there was no one else within earshot.

"Dear me!" he said. "Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. She is
English! I am sure of that. She is English, and apparently in some
distress. I wonder----"

He turned slowly round. He was inclined to be a good-natured person,
and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. The girl was pretty,
an