"I don't know. We must see what the Inspector says."
The train had stopped and the two other women got out, the one who had spoken to her saying: "I hope it will be all right, my dear. You don't look as if you was up to anything bad. You don't look like one of them swindling girls that they sent to prison for a fortnight last week."
"Oh, my God!" cried Edith piteously, as she stepped out on the platform. She covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
She was one of the last passengers to leave the train and the shallow fringe of alighting passengers had thinned and almost cleared away. She felt completely overwhelmed, as if she should die. She caught with one hand the side of the open carriage door for support, and kept the other hand before her face. She ceased to sob, or cry or weep. The collector and two guards were standing round her, waiting until she should recover herself. Presently a fourth man came up slowly from the further end of the train and stood among the three men.
"What is the matter?" he asked softly of one of the guards. "Has anything happened to the lady? Is she ill?"
A shiver went through Edith. There was something familiar in the voice, but unfamiliar in the tone.
"Lost her ticket and hasn't got any money. We have sent for the Inspector," answered the collector.
"Pooh, money," said the new-comer contemptuously. "I have money. Where has the lady come from? How much is the fare?"
"Come from Millway," answered the collector.
"Millway! So have I. What class? First?"