"Oh, what shall I do? I have lost my ticket and I have no money with me!"
Jean, who was alone in the carriage, eyed her attentively but spoke not a word.
The young woman began to cry.
"Help me!" she said; "help me! I am alone and friendless!"
Jean still said nothing; she noticed that as they stopped at a station her sobs subsided and that she drew back into a corner and avoided observation. This roused her suspicions, and, when they started again, the person, hitherto in such despair, began to grow not a little impertinent.
"I wonder if people pay by weight in this train?" she said, airily, determined to unlock the silent lips of the stout and much wrapped-up figure in front of her.
This taunt about her size did rouse Jean.
"If you've paid for your ticket you probably know," she said, in her best English, and extremely indignant.
This answer completely extinguished all wish for conversation on the part of her opposite neighbour, but she still fidgeted about, trying first one seat and then another, and, sitting down beside Jean, she fumbled about and pressed against her, altogether making herself most objectionable.
The journey came to an end; the ticket-collector came to the door and Jean put her hand in her pocket—her purse was safe, luckily, in the front of her dress—the ticket was gone! Greatly to her surprise the young woman immediately produced one.