The ticket was waiting with the station agent in her name. No doubt he'd had his secretary take care of it, all arranged with a word and a wave of the hand between important meetings. The train would take her into the city, the cab would take her to the apartment building she'd never seen, the door key she'd be handed by the Super would let her into the apartment and into a new life.
She already knew she'd never love him, not really, not with his short temper and his selfish lovemaking and his cigar-smoking-as-status-symbol. It's temporary, just temporary.