The remembrance of her arrival at Paddington revived in her as she looked at it—­the fright she had had when the ticket collector caught her by the arm to return half of the whole ticket she had given up.  She had put the ticket in the pocket of her jacket and never thought of it again.  Had Fate decreed her original mistake of taking a return ticket when she needed only a single one?  She was at that moment inclined to think so.

The question of its use was decided as soon as she saw it.  The ticket would take her back to Cornwall and Thalassa.  Thalassa would help and shield her.

The gilt hands of a church clock opposite the square pointed to half-past eight.  She knew that the morning express for Cornwall started shortly after ten, but she did not know what part of London she was in or the direction of Paddington.  Animated by a new hope, she left her seat and asked the cabman for directions.

The cabman looked at her with a ruminating eye.  That eye, with unfathomable perspicacity, seemed to pry into her empty pockets and pierce her penniless state.  He did not ask her if she wanted to be driven there, but intimated with a shake of his grey head that Paddington was a goodish walk.  Then he gave her directions for finding it—­implicit and repeated directions, as though his all-seeing eye had also divined that she was a stranger to the ways of London.

Sisily thanked him and turned away, repeating his directions so that she should not have to ask anybody else.  First to the right, second to the left, along Tottenham Court Road to Oxford Street, up Oxford Street to Edgeware Road, down Edgeware Road to Praed Street—­so it ran.  She followed them carefully, and found herself on Paddington station a quarter of an hour before the departure of the express.

She entered a third-class carriage, but sat in a corner seat, longing for the train to move out.  The minutes dragged slowly, and passengers kept thronging in.  All sorts of people seemed to have business in Cornwall at that late season of the year.  They came hurrying along in groups looking for vacant compartments.  Sisily kept an eager eye upon the late arrivals, hoping that they would pass by her compartment.  By some miraculous chance she was left undisturbed until almost starting time, then a group of fat women dashed along the platform with the celerity of fear, and crowded ponderously in.  The next moment the train began to slip away from the station, and was soon rushing into the open country at high speed.

Of the details of that journey she knew nothing at all.  She sat staring out of the window, her thoughts racing faster than the train.  The events of the last few days receded from her mental vision like the flying houses and fields outside the carriage window, fading into some remote distance of her mind.  Relief swelled in her heart as the train rushed west and London was left farther and farther behind.  Something within her seemed to sing piercingly for