or two behind her. The young lady had to his eye a wild, dishevelled
appearance. Her fair hair had escaped its bonds in all directions, and
was hanging loose upon her neck behind. Her hat had been crumpled and
bent by the child's embracing arms; the little muslin dress showed great
smears of coal-dust here and there, and the light gloves were black.

"No, Miss," he said, with rough decision. "You can't sit in the station.
There'll be one more train down directly--the express--and then we shut
the station for the night."

"How long will that be?" she asked faintly. He looked at his watch.

"Thirty-five minutes. You can go to the hotel, Miss. It's quite
respectable."

He gave her another sharp glance. He was a Dissenter, a man of northern
piety, strict as to his own morals and other people's. What on earth was
she doing here, in that untidy state, with a young man, at an hour going
on for midnight? Missed train? The young man said nothing about missed
trains.

But just as he was turning away, the girl detained him.

"How far is it across the sands to Marsland station?"

"Eight miles, about--shortest way."

"And the road?"

"Best part of fifteen."