"Well, that's so, I suppose," said Van Aldin, with a sigh. "You had better be getting on board this train of yours, Ruth. Where is your seat?"
Ruth Kettering looked vaguely up at the train. At the door of one of the Pullman cars a thin, tall woman dressed in black was standing—Ruth Kettering's maid. She drew aside as her mistress came up to her.
"I have put your dressing-case under your seat, Madam, in case you should need it. Shall I take the rugs, or will you require one?"
"No, no, I shan't want one. Better go and find your own seat now, Mason."
"Yes, Madam."
The maid departed.
Van Aldin entered the Pullman car with Ruth. She found her seat, and Van Aldin deposited various papers and magazines on the table in front of her. The seat opposite to her was already taken, and the American gave a cursory glance at its occupant. He had a fleeting impression of attractive grey eyes and a neat travelling costume. He indulged in a little more desultory conversation with Ruth, the kind of talk peculiar to those seeing other people off by train.
Presently, as whistles blew, he glanced at his watch.
"I had best be clearing out of here. Good-bye, my dear. Don't worry, I will attend to things."
"Oh, father!"