Lucian went on his way hastily, and shuddering with disgust. The young of the human creature were really too horrible; they defiled the earth, and made existence unpleasant, as the pulpy growth of a noxious and obscene fungus spoils an agreeable walk. The sight of those malignant little animals with mouths that uttered cruelty and filth, with hands dexterous in torture, and feet swift to run all evil errands, had given him a shock and broken up the world of strange thoughts in which he had been dwelling. Yet it was no good being angry with them: it was their nature to be very loathsome. Only he wished they would go about their hideous amusements in their own back gardens where nobody could see them at work; it was too bad that he should be interrupted and offended in a quiet country road. He tried to put the incident out of his mind, as if the whole thing had been a disagreeable story, and the visions amongst which he wished to move were beginning to return, when he was again rudely disturbed. A little girl, a pretty child of eight or nine, was coming along the lane to meet him. She was crying bitterly and looking to left and right, and calling out some word all the time. “Jack, Jack, Jack! Little Jackie! Jack!” Then she burst into tears afresh, and peered into the hedge, and tried to peep through a gate into a field. “Jackie, Jackie, Jackie!” She came up to Lucian, sobbing as if her heart would break, and dropped him an old-fashioned curtsy. “Oh, please sir, have you seen my little Jackie?” “What do you mean?” said Lucian. “What is it you’ve lost?” “A little dog, please sir. A little terrier dog with white hair. Father gave me him a month ago, and said I might keep him. Someone did leave the garden gate open this afternoon, and he must ’a got away, sir, and I was so fond of him sir, he was so playful and loving, and I be afraid he be lost.” She began to call again, without waiting for an answer. “Jack, Jack, Jack!” “I’m afraid some boys have got your little dog,” said Lucian. “They’ve killed him. You’d better go back home.” He went on, walking as fast as he could in his endeavor to get beyond the noise of the child’s crying. It distressed him, and he wished to think of other things. He stamped his foot angrily on the ground as he recalled the annoyances of the afternoon, and longed for some hermitage on the mountains, far above the stench and the sound of humanity.