"Where's Agnes?" asked David with laboured carelessness a day or two later. "She wasted her time," said Reuben, "so I got shut of her." "She's gone!" "Yes--back to her parents at Tonbridge"--and Reuben grinned. David said no more, but for the rest of the day he seemed glum and abstracted. In the evening Reuben found him sitting at the corn accounts, staring through the open window into the dusk. "Wot's fretting you, boy?" he asked. "Naun--I'm thinking." Once or twice Reuben caught him in the same mood, and questioned him. But David still answered: "I'm thinking." § 7. That autumn David and William went to Newhaven to see the Rye Football Club play the West Sussex United. They had more than once gone on such jaunts together, and on this occasion, trains being difficult, they put up for the night at a small hotel near the port. It was the first time they had spent a night away from Odiam, and a certain thrill attached to it. When the match was over they went for a stroll on the parade. There was not much daylight left, but the evening was warm, and the parade was crowded with saunterers. The young men were glad to think that there was no homeward train to be caught, or account of the day's doings to be given to their father. He always asked minutely how they spent their time, and it annoyed them a little. To-night they would walk and sit on the parade till supper time, then go to some coffee-house, and wind up at a music-hall. It was a gay programme and they discussed it happily, glanced at the passers-by, inspected the empty bandstand, and finally sat down on one of the seats to watch the fishing-boats trim their lamps in the amethyst fog of the sea. For some time they talked about the terrible licking the United had given Rye, arguing about this or that player, and speculating as to what would be the Club's fate at Hythe next week. It was David who drew William's attention to the woman sitting at the other end of their seat. David piqued himself on his knowledge of the world. "She's a--you know," he said. William peeped round his brother's shoulder. "How can you tell?" "Why, you kid, it's as plain as the nose on your face--look at her paint." Bill looked, his eyes opening wider than ever. She certainly was a disreputable female, or there was no judging by appearances. She wore a big frowsy hat trimmed with roses and ears of corn, under which her thick black hair was held up by several tawdry pins; her face was more lavishly than artistically adorned with rouge and _blanc de perle_, and she pulled a cape of lavender velvet closely round her shoulders as if she were cold--which might well have been, for, as far as they could see, her bodice consisted almost entirely of lace. "It's early for her to be prowling," said the man of the world. "I reckon she's having just a breath of fresh air before she starts work." "Where'll she go then?" asked Billy. "Oh, to the more crowded streets, round about the pubs and that."