"I must go," she replied, and although Lister remarked that her hands trembled as she smoothed her crumpled dress, her voice was steady.
"Very well," he said. "Come along."
When he opened the vestibule door the train was stopping and the beam from a standing locomotive's head-lamp flooded the track with dazzling light. For a moment the girl hesitated, but when Lister went down the steps she gave him her hand and jumped. Lister felt her tremble and was himself conscious of some excitement. He did not know if he was rash or not, but since she meant to go, speed was important, because the man from whom she wanted to escape might see them on the line. He went to the waiting engine in front of a long row of ballast cars, on which a big gravel plough loomed faintly in the dark.
"Who's on board?" he asked.
A man he knew looked out from the cab window.
"Hallo, Mr. Lister! I'm on board with Jake. We're going to Malcolm cut for gravel. Washout's mixed things; operator reckoned he could rush us through—"
"Then you'll stop and get water at the tank," Lister interrupted. "Will you make it before the East-bound comes along?"
"We ought to make it half-an-hour ahead. Wires all right that way. Nothing's on the road."
Lister turned to the girl. "If you're going East you must buy a new ticket at Malcolm. Have you money?"
"I have some—" she said and stopped, and Lister imagined she had not until then thought about money and had not much.