Only one passenger got out, and he came out of the station into the road.

He was quite recognisable even at this distance.

In his dream Morris felt that he expected to see him get out of the train, and walk along the road; the whole thing seemed pre-ordained.

But he ceased tiptoeing to look over the paling; he could hear the passenger's steps when he came nearer.
He thought he waited quietly, squatting down on the mossy grass behind the paling.

Something in his hands seemed angry, for his fingers kept tearing up the short turf, and the juice of the severed stems was red like blood.