The sound of quick steps aroused her—she peered through the gathering gloom—
A young man was coming nearer
The woman rose slowly to her feet and waited rigidly
It is you—you! she whispered hoarsely—
Her words went like shots at the slight figure, now perceptible
He stopped abruptly and shuddered like one accused of crime.
I do not know you, he managed to say. He had a flat thin voice.
You once lived in this house, the woman said menacingly.
He shuddered again and stepped back
The young man began to wonder. Could she be the sweet French woman that the village children had loved—
that he, the eldest of the little group had in his boyish awakening been romantic over—