"Where's the Marsland train?" she said to the porter who had come forward
to help her. "And how dreadfully late we are!"

"Marsland train, Miss! Last one left an hour ago--no other till 6.12
to-morrow morning."

"What do you mean? Oh! you didn't hear!--it's the train for _Marsland_ I
want."

"Afraid you won't get it then, Miss, till to-morrow. Didn't they warn you
at Froswick? They'd ought to. This train only makes the main-line
connection--for Crewe and Rugby--no connection Whinthorpe way after
8.20."

Laura's limbs seemed to waver beneath her. A step on the platform. She
turned and saw Hubert Mason.

"You!"

Mason thought she would faint. He caught her arm to support her. The
porter looked at them curiously, then moved away, smiling to himself.

Laura tottered to the railing at the back of the platform and supported
herself against it.

"What are you here for?" she said to him in a voice--a voice of hatred--a
voice that stung.

He glanced down upon her, pulling his fair moustache. His handsome face