Then she was back in the kitchen at Flint House, watching him bending over his lamps, listening to the wicked old song he used to sing-- "The devil and me we went away to sea, In the old brig 'Lizbeth-Jane...." The train caught up the refrain and thundered it into her tired head ...
"Went away to sea, went away to sea, In the old brig 'Lizbeth-Jane." And, listening to it, she fell into a dazed slumber.
She awoke with a start to find that it was getting dusk and the train was running smoothly through South Cornwall.

As she looked out of the window a grey corpse of a hill seemed to rise out of the sea.

It was Mount St.
Michael.

Then she caught a glimpse of Carn Brea and the purple moors.

The people in the carriage began to collect light luggage and put on coats and wraps.