"It won't be long now," he said in hopeful desperation, looking at his watch. "The train ought to be here in a few moments."
"In a few moments," she echoed mechanically.
Then, from outside, came the clangour of metal striking a suspended length of rail, the Indian equivalent of the station bell, announcing the train's arrival.
"Here she is!" Philip rose, half relieved, half reluctant. They plunged into the yelling throng on the platform. Flint's old bearer spread the Miss-sahib's bedding on an empty seat in the ladies' compartment that had only one other occupant, a mummy-like form, fast asleep.
"Now you're all right." Philip looked into the carriage. "You'd better get in and settle yourself for the night."
She held out her hand. "Please don't wait," she said formally, avoiding his gaze. "Good-byes are so horrid, and they say it's unlucky to see the last of a traveller!"
"Unlucky for me to see the last of you. I shall miss you."
"Oh, no, you won't," she said sharply. "Good-bye, and very many thanks for all your kindness."
She got into the train. Through the window he saw her busying herself with her bag. She did not even look up as the train passed out of the station. Chilled and puzzled he turned away. What an odd girl! Her curious behaviour, her grey eyes and freckled eager face filled his thoughts as he drove back to his camp in the hot moonlight.