To be no longer with Martha was strange. 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. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. . I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. Gerald shook his head. Through that she had to go. At this juncture, the sound of oars reached his ears, and he perceived Mr. Sheppard.
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