Barry Pain

“ She never seemed sanguine when she went to the station, or disappointed when she came back. She smiled pleasantly if she met any one she knew; the worst weather could not damp her spirits. If she had time to chat for a minute with a friend without being late for her train, she always appeared bright, cheerful, rational. In the village all knew the story.
When Miss Emmeline Folker was thirty-one years old, and it had seemed likely that the proud beauty (as she was then—Alice had always been plain) would never become engaged, she met a certain Wilfrid Gunton and falsified expectations. ”

“ Her sister remonstrated once. "Ah!" said Miss Emmeline Folker, "wait till Wilfrid comes, and he will tell you which of us knows his taste best." Her sister went into another room then; it did not do to let Emmeline see her crying. Emmeline had a vague idea that Alice was growing old before her time. Of herself she always spoke as quite a young woman. If any objection was raised to her going out in bad weather, she would say, "My dear Alice, you must remember that young people can do with perfect safety things that old people cannot." ”

“ She was perfectly rational in every other respect, and it was considered best to let her have her way—to humour her. When her own mother died, she shared a sincere and natural grief, and consented to wear mourning. "But," she said, "it must be for as short a time as is decent. Wilfrid has such a dislike for dark colours. Mamma would have understood." She kept close watch on any alterations that the railway company made in the time of the arrival of the last down-train, and the dinner-time for herself and her sister was arranged to suit it. ”