She walked on at a good pace, realising only when she saw the lights of Kirkstoun, how dark it had grown. As she passed the post-office, she saw a knot of men assembled at the counter; for, in an unobtrusive way, the Kirkstoun post-office—which was also a flourishing grocer's shop—served many of the purposes of a club. This it did the more effectually as the only female assistant was a wrinkled and spiteful old woman, whose virgin ears could not be injured by any ordinary masculine gossip.
Scarcely had Mona left this rendezvous behind her when she was overtaken by Dr Dudley.
"You are very late," he said simply.
"Yes, but I have had a glorious time."
"You are tired?"
"Healthily tired."
"Cobwebs all gone?"
"Oh yes! In fact, they had begun to go when I saw you yesterday, or I could not have spoken of them."
"Poor little soul!" he thought to himself, wondering how she escaped melancholia in the narrow limits of her life.
"You did not really mind those vulgar girls yesterday," he went on awkwardly, after a pause.