She rubbed her eyes and looked out of the window, "how dark it is" she thought and its raining too, how horrible and she nestled under her fluffy shawl. Presently the train stopped with a jerk and Mr. Palsey woke up.
"This is Warwick" he said picking up his bag "train's late and it is twenty to twelve.
"How late" quoth Helen and with a sigh she followed Mr. Palsey on to the crowded platform.
It was a dreary sight which met the weary girl's eyes. The rain was pouring heavily and the whole station looked wet and miserable. The gas lights flickered in the wind making hideous shadows on the walls. The porters, cold and cross looking, poor things, were bustling about, crying the name of the station at the tops of their voices, and a thin shaggy dog, evidently lost, was howling pitiably, tending by no means to cheer poor Helen's quaking heart.
"I thought Cyril would be sure to meet you" said Mr. Palsey suddenly "you go into the waiting room and warm yourself and I'll walk up the road a bit and see if I see him, for I dont know what house to go to do you?"
"No" said Helen, "oh Mr. Palsey I'm so unhappy and with a faint cry she turned away and buried her face in her shawl.
"Poor thing" thought Mr. Palsey "she cant guess the worst yet," out loud he added "hush Miss Winston, you are over fatigued, that is all, would you like a cup of coffee? the refreshment room is not yet closed."
"I could'nt drink or eat" replied Helen sadly "I'll go and sit by the fire while you look for Cyril.
"Very well" said Mr. Palsey, and he turned round and went off in an opposite direction.
Helen entered the waiting room and sat by the fire her tired eyes covered with her hands. Presently she raised her white face and glanced at the clock. Two old ladies sitting near, noticed her pale frightened face.