"Thank you, I don't want it," said Clyde. But nevertheless he dropped the volume in her lap, smiling offensively.
"Look it over," said he. "I'll get it later."
Paying no attention to her indignant refusal, he walked down the aisle to the smoking compartment. Clyde, a bright spot of anger on either cheek, turned to Nita.
"I think I shall speak to the conductor."
"It's because you're so pretty," said Nita, with an air of vast experience. "I've had the same thing, almost, happen to me. Back at college—in the town, I mean—there was a boy——But perhaps I'd better not say anything about it. He was very bold indeed!" She pursed her lips primly, but her eyes belied their expression.
"I beg your pardon," said the man across the aisle.
Once more Clyde froze indignantly. Never before had she felt the need of an escort in her travels. Never again, she told herself, would she travel alone with merely a fifteen-year-old kid for her sole companion. She honoured the new offender with a haughty stare. He smiled unaffectedly.
"Nothing like that," he disclaimed, as if he had read her thoughts. "I'll take that book if you don't want it. He can get it back from me."
He stretched a long arm across, and thanked her as she handed him the book mechanically. Forthwith he opened it, and began to read. And he was still absorbed in it when the donor returned.
That gentleman paused uncertainly beside Clyde, who was haughtily unconscious of his presence.