of decency or even decorum. "Get out of my sight," he cried fiercely,
"or if it comes to that I can go myself. I've done with you, I tell
you--ye needn't come after me no more."

She had been looking at him piteously, the big tears standing in those
strange blue eyes of hers, and on her tanned cheeks; but now a curious
sullen expression came over her face. Stooping and picking up the
handkerchief, she tore at it fiercely, first with her hands and
subsequently with her teeth. A kind of angry curiosity caused John to
delay his departure.

"You've no right to make away with Mr. Lambert's handkerchief," he
cried. "If I did what was right I'd give notice to the police."

"Well, why dunnot ye?" she retorted with a fierceness which startled
him. "Ye can if ye've a mind."

And she walked away slowly, still plucking at the handkerchief.

* * * * *

A year later, on just such another Sunday afternoon, John stood on the
same spot with a woman by his side--the woman was Jinny, and Jinny was
his wife. Many things had happened since John had parted in wrath and
bitterness from the girl whom he had once called "Golden Sally." His
demeanour towards his aunt on the momentous morning alluded to had led
to a violent quarrel with her and her husband, which had had
unexpected results, for Jinny had taken his part--Jinny who was the
idol of her parents and the pivot on which the whole establishment
turned. John's whilom indifference had led first to pique on Jinny's