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. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed. " "You're agitating yourself unnecessarily, Joan," returned Wood, in a soothing voice. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons.
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