Although I fought against it, calling myself an old woman and a coward, I must confess to an impulse which almost made me beg the station-master's company on my walk; but, besides being ashamed to exhibit a timidity apparently groundless, I was reluctant to draw attention to myself in any way.

I would not for the world have it supposed that I carried anything of value.
"Well, there's no help for it," said I, and, buttoning my heavy coat about me, I took my hand-bag and stick in one hand, and asked my way to the hotel.

My misfortunes had broken down the station-master's indifference, and he directed me in a sympathetic tone.
"Straight along the road, sir," said he, "between the poplars, for hard on half a mile; then the houses begin, and your hotel is in the first square you come to, on the right." I thanked him curtly (for I had not quite forgiven him his earlier incivility), and started on my walk, weighed down by my big coat and the handbag.

When I left the lighted station yard I realized that the evening had fallen very dark, and the shade of the tall lank trees intensified the gloom.

I could hardly see my way, and went timidly, with frequent stumbles over the uneven stones of the road.