Only one vehicle passed her before she came within sight of the streets; it was a carriage and pair, and she recognised the coachman of a family who lived towards Rickstead.

Quarrier was doubtless still in the town, but to find him might be difficult.

Perhaps she had better go to his house and despatch a servant in search of him.

But that was away on the other side of Polterham, and in the meantime he might be starting for Pear-tree Cottage.

The polling was long since over; would he linger with his friends at the committee room?
Yet she must go to the house first of all; there was a reason for it which only now occurred to her.
The main thoroughfares, usually silent and forsaken at this hour, were alive with streams of pedestrians, with groups of argumentative electors, with noisy troops of lads and girls who occasionally amused themselves with throwing mud at some unpopular person, or even breaking a window and rushing off with yells into the darkness of byways.
Public-houses were doing a brisk trade, not without pugilism for the entertainment of such as lounged about the doors.