"Come on, my dear!" he cried, getting into rapid motion.
She sat still.
He was at the door.

"Come on," he said.
She looked appealingly, helplessly round that empty, lonely, strange station, its lights dim, its suggestions all inhospitable.

"He has me at his mercy," she said to herself, between anger and despair.

"How can I refuse to go without becoming the laughing-stock of the whole world ?" "Come on--Rita!" he cried.

The voice was aggressive, but his face was deathly pale and the look out of his eyes was the call of a great loneliness.