“To-morrow!” said the man, throwing up his hands. “To-morrow! For us,” pointing to himself, “there is no to-morrow. I must hurry on.”
He strode away towards a faded cottage on the outskirts of the town, leaving Lek to wonder what his mysterious answer could mean.
OLD PEASANT COSTUME.
Lek entered the town. The people were strange to him; every one seemed to be in a hurry. Men and women were talking rapidly, like travellers when taking leave of their friends for a long journey. Indeed, so earnest were their words that they seemed hardly to notice him at all.
He presently met an old woman on a crutch, hurrying along the shadowy street.
