“There ain’t a many like her,” sobbed Alice when the train had finally departed. “I’m sure when Charlie went back on me with that girl from the Dairy, nobody could have been kinder than Miss Grey was, and though particular about the brasses and the dust, she was always one to notice when you’d give a thing an extra rub. Cut myself in little pieces for her, I would, any day. A real lady, that’s what I call her.”

Such was Katherine’s departure from St. Mary Mead.