district of the Four Towns. He was a gallant youngster, people said, and very clever. Young as he was there was talk of parliament for him; he had been a great success at the university, and he was being sedulously popularised among us. He took with a light confidence, as a matter of course, advantages that I would have faced the rack to get, and I firmly believed myself a better man than he. He was, as he stood there, a concentrated figure of all that filled me with bitterness. One day he had stopped in a motor outside our house, and I remember the thrill of rage with which I had noted the dutiful admiration in my mother's eyes as she peered through her blind at him.
"That's young Mr. Verrall," she said. "They say he's very clever."
"They would," I answered. "Damn them and him!"
But that is by the way.
He was clearly astonished to find himself face to face with a man. His note changed.
"Who the devil are you?" he asked.
My retort was the cheap expedient of re-echoing, "Who the devil are you?"
"Well," he said.
"I'm coming along this path if I like," I said. "See? It's a public path--just as this used to be public land. You've stolen the land--you and yours, and now you want to steal
