cab-man could take me?''
A cab-man?'' said the guard. He shouted it to the driver. ''Wants a cab-man!''
A cab-man!''
They laughed until they coughed. The guard took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, saying, ''Dearie me, oh! dearie, dearie me. A cab-man, at Marlow!''
''Oh, fuck off,'' I said. ''Fuck off, the pair of you.''
And I caught up my trunk and walked with it to where I could see one or two lights shining, that I thought must be the houses of the village. The guard said, ''Why, you hussy—! I shall let Mr Way know about you. See what he thinks—you bringing your London tongue down here—!''
I can''t say what I meant to do next. I did not know how far it was to Briar. I did not even know which road I ought to take. London was forty miles away, and I was afraid of cows and bulls.
But after all, country roads aren''t like city ones. There are only about four of them, and they all go to the same place in the end. I started to walk, and had walked a minute when there came, behind me, the sound of hooves and creaking wheels. And then a cart drew alongside me, and the driver pulled up and lifted up a lantern, to look at my face.
''You''ll be Susan Smith,'' he said, ''come down from London. Miss Maud''ve been fretting after you all day.''
He was an oldish man and his name was William Inker. He was Mr Lilly''s groom. He took my trunk and helped me into the seat beside his own, and geed up the horse; and when—being struck by the breeze as we drove—he felt me shiver, he reached for a tartan blanket for me to put about my legs.