Margaret
THE street was feebly lighted, but by the glare from the public-house at the corner I could see her coming towards me, holding a jug in one hand and running the other along the railings in front of the houses as a boy does a stick. She walked swiftly but cautiously, and rather as if measuring a distance by counting the paces. As I came nearer, she shrank against the railings, and almost stopped; but as soon as I had passed she went on again more quickly than before. She must have heard me stop to look after her; for she paused for a moment, and turned her head as if listening, and then glided on through the darkness into the glare; and as she went into the public-house I caught sight of a tangle of heavy golden hair hanging down her back.
Presently she came back, keeping close to the houses as before, and in front of one of them about half-way down the street she stopped, and passed her hand along the tops of the railings as if feeling for something. She seemed satisfied, and pushing open the area gate went down the steps. "Is that you, Maggie?" cried a woman s voice and a flood of light came up from the area. A door was hastily slammed, and all was dark again; but as I passed the house I noticed that the spike on the top of one of the railings was missing.
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