30 GARRYOWEN 



English. The streets were like English streets, 

 the people like Enghsh people, the rain like EngHsh 

 rain — only worse. 



But it was not raining here. Here in the west 

 the train seemed drawing out of civilisation into 

 a new world. Vast hills and purple moors, great 

 spaces of golden afternoon, unspoiled by city or 

 town, far mountain tops breaking to view and 

 veiled in the loveliness of distance. 



" And people go to Switzerland with this at 

 their elbow," said Miss Grimshaw, leaning her 

 chin upon her palm and gazing upon the view. 



She was alone in the carriage and so could 

 place her feet on the opposite cushions. Very 

 pretty Httle feet they were too. 



V. Grimshaw was dressed with plainness and 

 distinction in a Norfolk jacket and skirt of Harris 

 tweed, a brown Homburg hat and youth. She 

 did not look more than eighteen, though she was 

 in fact twenty-two. Her face, ht by the warm 

 afternoon hght, was both practical and pretty, 

 her hair was dark and seemed abundant. Beside 

 her, on the cushions of the carriage, lay several 

 newspapers. The Athenceum amongst others, and 

 a book, Tartarin of Tarascon, in the original French. 



This was the personage who had replied to Mr 

 French's advertisement. There was no deception. 

 She had stated her age plainly as twenty-two in 

 her first letter to him. The mistake was on his 

 part. In reading the hundred and fifty or so re- 

 plies to his advertisement he had got mixed some- 



