‘Lord! There will be an upset! . . . Our wedding’ll be put off . . . if Guy’s brother’s killed . . . sure to be, don’t you think?’
I said good-bye to Diana.
She gave me a cup of tea.
I thought:
‘I must go to Yearsly, to Cousin Delia now. . . .’
I got into a bus in Piccadilly, and off it at Waterloo. I walked up the long sloping entrance, under the bridge.
The station was very big and full of people. The wide arch of the roof seemed bigger than usual, higher, and further off. It seemed very full of smoke and noise.
I went to the booking-office where we always went for our tickets, but it was shut.
I thought:
‘There is no train . . . I cannot go to Yearsly . . .’