Siegmund put on his overcoat and sat down. All his morning's blaze of
elation was gone, though there still glowed a great hope. He had slept
only two hours of the night. An empty man, he had drunk joy, and now the
intoxication was dying out.

At three o'clock of the afternoon he sat alone in the second-class
carriage, looking out. A few raindrops struck the pane, then the blurred
dazzle of a shower came in a burst of wind, and hid the downs and the
reeds that shivered in the marshy places. Siegmund sat in a chilly
torpor. He counted the stations. Beneath his stupor his heart was
thudding heavily with excitement, surprising him, for his brain
felt dead.

The train slowed down: Yarmouth! One more station, then. Siegmund
watched the platform, shiny with rain, slide past. On the dry grey under
the shelter, one white passenger was waiting. Suddenly Siegmund's heart
leaped up, wrenching wildly. He burst open the door, and caught hold of
Helena. She dilated, gave a palpitating cry as he dragged her into
the carriage.

'You _here_!' he exclaimed, in a strange tone. She was shivering with
cold. Her almost naked arms were blue. She could not answer Siegmund's
question, but lay clasped against him, shivering away her last chill as
his warmth invaded her. He laughed in his heart as she nestled in
to him.

'Is it a dream now, dear?' he whispered. Helena clasped him tightly,
shuddering because of the delicious suffusing of his warmth through her.

Almost immediately they heard the grinding of the brakes.