road as they had come, passed me again, and turned the corner of University Street and up towards St Olav's Place. I was all the time as close at their heels as I dared to be. They turned round once, and sent me a half-fearful, half-questioning look, and I saw no resentment nor any trace of a frown in it.
This forbearance with my annoyance shamed me thoroughly and made me lower my eyes. I would no longer be a trouble to them, out of sheer gratitude I would follow them with my gaze, not lose sight of them until they entered some place safely, and disappeared.
Outside No. 2, a large four-storeyed house, they turned again before going in. I leant against a lamp-post near the fountain and listened for their footsteps on the stairs. They died away on the second floor. I advanced from the lamp-post and looked up at the house. Then something odd happened. The curtains above were stirred, and a second after a window opened, a head popped out, and two singular-looking eyes dwelt on me. "Ylajali!" I muttered, half-aloud, and I felt I grew red.
Why does she not call for help, or push over one of those flower-pots and strike me