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Iris finished her unspoken sentence with a sigh. The ticket office and general waiting room of Doleham Valley station contained a single six-foot bench which was already occupied at one end by a young woman with a suitcase. The young woman smiled as she made room, but neither Iris nor her maid seemed to notice her as they sat down. Iris settled the folds of her gray and violet dress, then turned at once to Sale.

"Sale, I think you had better telephone."

"I've never telephoned from here'm."

"There's a telephone in Mr. Chaffage's office."

"I've never used it'm."

Iris knew that, as far as Sale was concerned, the subject was closed. But she had achieved her object, for Chaffage understood her at last.

"How'd it be if I was to ring up, Mum, and find out what's happened?"

"Oh, Mr. Chaffage, it would be sweet of you. Just ring up and tell whoever answers that the car hasn't come to meet us. Find out what's happened, and if Elphinstone hasn't started tell him to come along at once."

Chaffage disappeared into a disordered chamber behind the ticket office. Here branch-line goods awaited delivery by the slow travail of the station van, and several times a day the telephone rang unanswered while the stationmaster acted alternatively as signalman and porter. Soon from it emerged the broken ends of an unintelligible conversation.