It was a quarter to six when Evarne arrived at the Gare St. Lazare, and learned that the first train for Dieppe started in five minutes. Hurrying to the booking-office, she ordered a first single, then contradicted herself, asking for a second-class ticket. It was so difficult to have to remember to economise. The slow train, stopping at every station, took six hours to cover the ground, but Evarne felt no impatience. The steamer did not leave until half-past one, and until then one place was as satisfactory as any other. Indeed, it was even restful to sit quietly in a corner, and not have to force her numbed brain to think and plan. About nine o'clock the train stopped at a station, where she bought a cup of coffee and a roll. As she sipped and nibbled she reflected that at a corresponding hour on the previous morning she had eaten just such another little _premier déjeuner_. How remote then appeared the prospect of her very next similar meal being taken thus--parted from Morris for ever, dazed and broken-hearted, bound in solitude and fear for another land. "After all, life ought to be somewhat interesting, for it is certainly unexpected," she thought, with a grim, mirthless little smile. The Channel being on its best behaviour, she escaped the additional trials of illness, but none the less, on arriving at Newhaven, she felt incapable of further effort, and resolved to put up there for the night. The day being Sunday made a good excuse for this feebleness. It really would be most undesirable to arrive in London on the Sabbath evening. She turned with relief into the nearest hotel, and went straight to bed. She slept; she lay awake; she trembled beneath evil dreams; she shed tears again. The long weary night passed somehow, but left her haggard-eyed and unrefreshed. A maid brought breakfast to her bedside, but Evarne turned with repugnance from the stolid bacon and overdone poached eggs, and it was after a mere pretence of a meal that she arose, paid her bill, and took her seat in the Victoria train. CHAPTER XIV HELPING HANDS It was a fresh and beautiful morning when she arrived in London town. The sun shone, the sparrows chirruped merrily, violets and mimosa were displayed at the street-corners; English spring was at its best. Evarne changed the remainder of her French gold at the station, and then wandered out of its main entrance--aimlessly--ignorant of where to go--which way to turn.