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The Strange Lady
177

wholly without a touch of the sulks of a schoolboy.

“Yes, we will get out, serjeant,” said Turnbull, more easily; “my name is James Turnbull. We must not incommode the lady.”

“What are you taking them up for?” asked the young woman, looking straight in front of her along the road.

“It’s under the new act,” said the serjeant, almost apologetically. “Incurable disturbers of the peace.”

“What will happen to them?” she asked, with the same frigid clearness.

“Westgate Adult Reformatory,” he replied, briefly.

“Until when?”

“Until they are cured,” said the official.

“Very well, serjeant,” said the young lady, with a sort of tired common-sense. “I am sure I don’t want to protect criminals or go against the law; but I must tell you that these gentlemen have done me a considerable service; you won’t mind drawing your men a little farther off while I say good-night to them. Men like that always misunderstand.”

The serjeant was profoundly disquieted from

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