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It lasted for some time, and during its length Iris's attention wandered more than once to the young woman next her. Closer examination revealed the fact that she was not really very young, but had been made to look so by her clothes, which were short and bunchy, and her hair, which was long and loose, with a gay ribbon snood tied around it. Her bare legs ended in high-heeled shoes and were short and plump and pink—altogether a deplorable person, thought Iris. What could she be doing here at Doleham Valley station? What or whom was she waiting for? She looked like the sort of person one got nowadays when one advertised for a cook, the sort of person that made her keep on Mrs. Ashplant in spite of her ways.

The stationmaster came out of his office, looking flustered.

"I'm sorry, Mum, to have taken so long, but there's been a bit of a mix-up. Seemingly you weren't expected till tomorrow."

"But I said Friday. I spoke to Miss Lesley and told her Friday."

"Miss Lesley was on the phone, Mum, and she said she's sorry, but she thought Friday was tomorrow."