tickets-please!

1Tickets,Please!D.H.Lawrence1919ThereisintheMidlandsasingle-linesystemoftramcarswhichboldlyleavesthecountytownandplungesoffintotheblack,industrialcountryside,uphillanddowndale,throughthelong,uglyvillagesofworkmen'shouses,overcanalsandrailways,pastchurchesperchedhighandnoblyoverthesmokeandshadows,throughdark,grimy,coldlittlemarket-places,tiltingawayinarushpastcinemasandshopsdowntothehollowwherethecollieriesare,thenupagain,pastalittleruralchurchundertheash-trees,oninarushtotheterminus,thelastlittleuglyplaceofindustry,thecoldlittletownthatshiversontheedgeofthewild,gloomycountrybeyond.Theretheblueandcreamycolouredtramcarseemstopauseandpurrwithcurioussatisfaction.Butinafewminutes—theclockontheturretoftheCo-operativeWholesaleSociety'sshopsgivesthetime—awayitstartsoncemoreontheadventure.Againtherearetherecklessswoopsdownhill,bouncingtheloops;againthechillywaitinthehill-topmarket-place:againthebreathlessslitheringroundtheprecipitousdropunderthechurch:againthepatienthaltsattheloops,waitingfortheoutcomingcar:soonandon,fortwolonghours,tillatlastthecityloomsbeyond,thefatgasworks,thenarrowfactoriesdrawnear,weareinthesordidstreetsofthegreattown,oncemorewesidletoastandstillatourterminus,abashedbythegreatcrimsonandcream-colouredcitycars,butstilljerky,jaunty,somewhatdaredevil,greenasajauntysprigofparsleyoutofablackcollierygarden.Torideonthesecarsisalwaysanadventure.Thedriversareoftenmenunfitforactiveservice:cripplesandhunchbacks.Sotheyhavethespiritofthedevilinthem.Theridebecomesasteeplechase.Hurrah!wehaveleaptinacleanjumpoverthecanalbridges—nowforthefour-lanecorner!Withashriekandatrailofsparksweareclearagain.Tobesureatramoftenleapstherails—butwhatmatter!Itsitsinaditchtillothertramscometohaulitout.Itisquitecommonforacar,packedwithonesolidmassoflivingpeople,tocometoadeadhaltinthemidstofunbrokenblackness,theheartofnowhereonadarknight,andforthedriverandthegirl-conductortocall:'Allgetoff—car'sonfire.'Insteadofrushingoutinapanic,thepassengersstolidlyreply:'Geton—geton.We'renotcomingout.We'restoppingwhereweare.Pushon,George.'Sotillflamesactuallyappear.Thereasonforthisreluctancetodismountisthatthenightsarehowlinglycold,blackandwindswept,andacarisahavenofrefuge.Fromvillagetovillagetheminerstravel,forachangeofcinema,ofgirl,ofpub.Thetramsaredesperatelypacked.Whoisgoingtoriskhimselfintheblackgulfoutside,towaitperhapsanhourforanothertram,thentoseetheforlornnotice'DepotOnly'—becausethereissomethingwrong;ortogreet2aunitofthreebrightcarsallsotightwithpeoplethattheysailpastwithahowlofderision?Tramsthatpassinthenight!This,themostdangeroustram-serviceinEngland,astheauthoritiesthemselvesdeclare,withpride,isentirelyconductedbygirls,anddrivenbyrashyoungmen,alittlecrippled,orbydelicateyoungmen,whocreepforwardinterror.Thegirlsarefearlessyounghussies.Intheiruglyblueuniforms,skirtsuptotheirknees,shapelessoldpeakedcapsontheirheads,theyhaveallthesangfroidofanoldnon-commissionedofficer.Withatrampackedwithhowlingcolliers,roaringhymnsdownstairsandasortofantiphonyofobscenitiesupstairs,thelassesareperfectlyattheirease.Theypounceontheyouthswhotrytoevadetheirticket-machine.Theypushoffthemenattheendoftheirdistance.Theyarenotgoingtobedoneintheeye—notthey.Theyfearnobody—andeverybodyfearsthem.'Hello,Annie!''Hello,Ted!''Oh,mindmycorn,MissStone!It'smybeliefyou'vegotaheartofstone,foryou'vetrodonitagain.''Youshouldkeepitinyourpocket,'repliesMissStone,andshegoessturdilyupstairsinherhighboots.'Tickets,please.'Sheisperemptory,suspicious,andreadytohitfirst.Shecanholdherownagainsttenthousand..Thestep-ofthattram-carisherThermopylae.Thereforethereisacertainwildromanceaboardthesecars—andinthesturdybosomofAnnieherself.Theromantictimeisinthemorning,betweenteno'clockandone,whenthingsareratherslack:thatis,exceptmarket-dayandSaturday.ThenAnniehastimetolookabouther.Thensheoftenhopsoffhercarandintoashopwhereshehasspiedsomething,whileherdriverchatsinthemainroad.Thereisverygoodfeelingbetweenthegirlsandthedrivers.Aretheynotcompanionsinperil,shipmatesaboardthiscareeringvesselofatramcar,foreverrockingonthewavesofastonyland?Then,also,intheeasyhourstheinspectorsaremostinevidence.Forsomereason,everybodyemployedinthistram-serviceisyoung:therearenogreyheads.Itwouldnotdo.Thereforetheinspectorsareoftherightage,andone,thechief,isalsogood-looking.Seehimstandonawet,gloomymorninginhislongoilskin,hispeakedcapwelldownoverhiseyes,waitingtoboardacar.Hisfaceisruddy,hissmallbrownmoustacheisweathered,hehasafaint,impudentsmile.Fairlytallandagile,eveninhiswaterproof,hespringsaboardacarandgreetsAnnie.'Hello,Annie!Keepingthewetout?''Tryingto.'Thereareonlytwopeopleinthecar.Inspectingissoonover.Thenforalongandimpudentchatonthefootboard—agood,easy,twelve-milechat.3Theinspector'snameisJohnThomasRaynor:alwayscalledJohnThomas,exceptsometimes,inmalice,Coddy.Hisfacesetsinfurywhenheisaddressed,fromadistance,withthisabbreviation.ThereisconsiderablescandalaboutJohnThomasinhalf-a-dozenvillages.Heflirtswiththegirl-conductorsinthemorning,andwalksoutwiththeminthedarknightwhentheyleavetheirtramcaratthedepot.Ofcourse,thegir