HE was only a clerk in a country bank. Morning by morning punctually at half-past nine, he would leave his lodgings in the quiet village street, and take his twenty minutes' walk along the straight high road that led to his destination. His clothes were shabby, but one glance at his bright resolute face and clear frank blue eyes revealed a fresh young spirit, as yet undaunted and untainted by contact with evil: and he walked with a spring and vigor envied by many a passer-by. It was a wild wet morning in March when first he met her. He had been away for a week's holiday, and as he left his own doorstep, he saw a little figure do the same from the lodgings over the way. He watched her strugg…
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