A beautiful summer evening it was, and I was sitting by
the gate smoking a pipe till it should be time to light up, when I
noticed a woman who 'ad just passed turn back and stand staring at me.
I've 'ad that sort o' thing before, and I went on smoking and looking
straight in front of me. Fat middle-aged woman she was, wot 'ad lost her
good looks and found others. She stood there staring and staring, and by
and by she tries a little cough.
I got up very slow then, and, arter looking all round at the evening,
without seeing 'er, I was just going to step inside and shut the wicket,
when she came closer.
"Bill!" she ses, in a choking sort o' voice.
"Bill!"
I gave her a look that made her catch 'er breath, and I was just stepping
through the wicket, when she laid hold of my coat and tried to hold me
back.
"Do you know wot you're a-doing of?" I ses, turning on her.
"Oh, Bill dear," she ses, "don't talk to me like that. Do you want to
break my 'art? Arter all these years!"
She pulled out a dirt-coloured pocket-'ankercher and stood there dabbing
her eyes with it.
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