A Spoilt Girl — Florence Warden

Be you for parson's house at Culverley?The time was six o'clock in the evening, the season September, the place a ttle way-side station in North Kent, and the speaker the driver of the local carrier's cart.The person he addressed was a tall, well-dressed man, thin, bent, and so hollow of cheeks and bright of eyes that the carrier treated him to a long stare of unfeigned curiosity and compassion. When the gentleman spoke, it was in such a harsh, cavernous voice that the carrier started and looked at him as if half doubtful whether the stranger really belonged to this world.