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Updated: May 6, 2025
To my left, down in the hollow, the way led through the village. To my right, it stretched far on the level until it narrowed to a grey point piercing a semi-circle of green; but I knew that miles beyond, at the end of that grey line, was the busy town of Grangeborough, with its thronging people, its railways and its steamships. That was the direction for me.
They were welcome lights to me, for the pangs of a healthy hunger were clamouring to be appeased. As it had been with the country some hours before, so was it now with Grangeborough. The town was settling down for the night. It was late. Most of the shops were closing, or already closed. Business was over for the day. People hurried homeward like shadows.
Now and again, I passed a tired toiler, with bent head and dragging feet, his drudgery over for the day, but weighted with the knowledge that it must begin all over again on the morrow and on each succeeding morrow till the crash of his doom. The night breeze came up and darkness gathered round me. A few hours more, and the twinkling lights of Grangeborough came into view.
I waved my hand to sleepy little Brammerton and I swung to the right, for Grangeborough and the sea. Soon the internal tumult, caused by what I had just gone through, began to subside, and my spirits rose attune to the glories of the afternoon. Little I cared what my lot was destined to be a prince in a palace or a tramp under a hedge.
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