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"Does the bus run in the morning—the one that passes the Manor gate?"

"There'd be one at eleven o'clock, but he don't come back till the afternoon, as he gets his dinner in Sandlake. And now, if you'll excuse me, Miss, I must be going down the line to see about the points for up train."

"Don't let me keep you," said Rosamund, and changed her mind about offering him a cigarette. He wasn't much in the way of company—and he might have stopped calling her Miss when she told him she had a boy—or did he think she meant a boy friend? Yet he had been somebody to talk to, and now she had nobody. By this time she knew her Picture Post by heart, so there was nothing for her to do but sit and think, and she hated thinking.

Thinking took her into even worse places than Doleham Valley station—places she had been long ago and not so long ago, places she hadn't been yet but might well find herself in before long if she wasn't careful. She positively must make a success out of this job. It must get her somewhere.