"Say you believe I did it on purpose!--to get you into trouble!--you may as well. You'd believe anything bad about me, I know." Already there was a new note in his voice, a hoarse, tyrannous note, as though he felt her in his power. In her terror the girl recalled that wild drive from the Browhead dance, with its disgusts and miseries. Was he sober now? What was she to do?--how was she to protect herself? She felt a passionate conviction that she was trapped, that he had planned the whole catastrophe, knowing well what would be thought of her at Bannisdale--in the neighbourhood. She looked round her, making a desperate effort to keep down exhaustion and excitement. The main-line train had just gone, and the station-master, with a lantern in his hand, was coming up the platform. Laura went to meet him. "I've made a mistake and missed the last train to Marsland. Can I sit here in the station till the morning?" The station-master looked at her sharply--then at the man standing a yard or two behind her. The young lady had to his eye a wild, dishevelled appearance. Her fair hair had escaped its bonds in all directions, and was hanging loose upon her neck behind. Her hat had been crumpled and bent by the child's embracing arms; the little muslin dress showed great smears of coal-dust here and there, and the light gloves were black. "No, Miss," he said, with rough decision. "You can't sit in the station. There'll be one more train down directly--the express--and then we shut the station for the night." "How long will that be?" she asked faintly. He looked at his watch. "Thirty-five minutes. You can go to the hotel, Miss. It's quite respectable." He gave her another sharp glance. He was a Dissenter, a man of northern piety, strict as to his own morals and other people's. What on earth was she doing here, in that untidy state, with a young man, at an hour going on for midnight? Missed train? The young man said nothing about missed trains. But just as he was turning away, the girl detained him. "How far is it across the sands to Marsland station?" "Eight miles, about--shortest way." "And the road?" "Best part of fifteen." He walked off, throwing a parting word behind him. "Now understand, please, I can't have anybody here when we lock up for the night." Laura hardly heard him. She was looking first to one side of the station, then to the other. The platform and line stood raised under the hill. Just outside the station to the north the sands of the estuary stretched bare and wide under the moon. In the other direction, on her right hand, the hills rose steeply; and close above the line a limestone quarry made a huge gash in the fell-side. She stood and stared at the wall of glistening rock that caught the moon; at the little railing at the top, sharp against the sky; at the engine-house and empty trucks.