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. “I might go home, I don’t know. ” On the inside she felt her muscles loosen with relief. I know there’s a sort of right in your impatience at the slowness of Progress. “You have the temperament,” he said. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. " "Come, lad; let's have it," said McClintock.
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