Leaning down as far as possible, he held out his hand to her.
"Get hold, if you want to come," he called.

"There's a step yonder." She seized his hand and smiled at him when he drew her up beside him.
"Thanks," she said.

"I was nearly too late." "Perhaps we had better make for the pilot, where there'll be more room," George suggested, as two more passengers scrambled up.
They crept forward, holding on by the guard-rail, while the great engine began to rock as it gathered speed.

The girl, however, was fearless, and at length they reached the front, and stood beneath the big head-lamp with the triangular frame of the pilot running down to the rails at their feet.

The ledge along the top of it was narrow, and when his companion sat down George felt concerned about her safety.
Her hat had blown back, setting free tresses of glossy hair; her light skirt fluttered against the sooty pilot.
"You'll have to allow me," he said, tucking the thin fabric beneath her and passing an arm around her waist.
He thought she bore it well, for her manner was free from prudish alarm or coquettish submission.