A woman, their mother, mumbled and slobbered over their hands.

An old man, too old to be their father, shouted broken benedictions to them.

Two young men--lovers, perhaps, or brothers--stood red-eyed, desolate and helpless, without speaking.

After the train had started Hyacinth looked at the girls.

One of them, a pretty creature of perhaps eighteen years old, wept quietly in the corner of the carriage.