It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. It was, in plain fact, a voice naturally pleasant, but a good deal handicapped by choking dust. She said,

“Where are we?”

“Under what’s left of the train. They’ll get us out presently. Are you all right?”

She hadn’t got as far as thinking about that. She began to think about it now, clutching at his arm, experimenting to see what she could move. After a moment she said,

“I’m all right, I think. Everything moves a little, but I can’t lift up or turn-there’s something over us.”

“Yes-lucky for us. There was a ditch-we went down into it. Fortunately we got there first. A door opened and shot us out before the train came down on us. I was in the corridor just outside your compartment. I grabbed you, and we came down together. We’re in the bottom of the ditch. There’s a good deal of stuff over us, and it may take some time to get us out, but we shall be all right.”

As his voice ceased, she began to be aware of sounds which had not come to her before. They must have been there, but they had not reached her-movement, voices, the scrape of metal on metal, a heavy thudding, a sound of groaning, a sound of someone crying, and once, high-pitched and terrible, a scream. It all seemed to be a long way off, not in distance but-removed. The sensation of being withdrawn from her surroundings had not been broken by the accident but intensified. What she thought and felt seemed to come to her from the other side of a misty barrier which made everything unreal.

She drew a long breath. Whether it was heard or felt she did not know. She was still holding to the stuff of his coat. His left hand came over now and took her wrist, feeling for the pulse. Then, releasing that, he took her hand.

“You’re all right. We’ve just got to pass the time. Take your hand away if you want to-but you’re a bit cold-I thought perhaps something to hold on to-”