It was Janet's train.

In some first-class compartment Janet and her father were shut together, side by side, intimate, mutually understanding.

Again, a beautiful relation! From the summit of a high kiln in the middle distance, flames shot intermittently forth, formidable.

Crockery was being fired in the night: and unseen the fireman somewhere flitted about the mouths of the kiln.

And here and there in the dim faces of the streets a window shone golden...