It was the very woman about whom his mind was occupied.

There was a house at one side; the gate leading to it was close to him, and, not wishing to be recognised at the moment, he turned in through it to wait in the darkness of some garden shrubs till she had passed.
But she did not pass.

She came up, walking more and more slowly, till she stood on the road outside the gate.

She looked up and down the road with a hesitating air, and then, clasping her hands behind her, leaned back against a heavy gate-post and composed herself to wait.

There was light enough to see her, for there was a moon behind the clouds, and also what was left of the daylight in the west was glimmering full upon her.