CHAPTER XIX
IN THE LONDON TRAIN
The train had started before Isla's travelling companion caught a glimpse of her face. She rose up with a sudden bang from her seat, with the result that, in spite of herself, Isla lowered her paper a little to see what was going to happen. What she did see was only the purple lady removing her large and unsuitable headgear, which seemed to interfere with her comfort.
"Hats are gettin' worse every day," she said with a pleasant smile as she jabbed two immense pins with imitation moonstone tops into the stuffing of the cushions behind her. "Soon they'll need to get us hat-compartments. Eh--what? Now, where have I seen you before?"
She took some hairpins from her abundant and really pretty hair, and with a back-comb began to do her toilet.
Isla was saved the difficulty of answering by a sudden gleam of recognition wandering across the lady's face.
"Oh, I know--on the road right down there in Glenogle yesterday! Now, ain't you jolly glad to be gettin' away from that God-forsaken hole?"
"Just at the present moment I am," Isla admitted.
She wondered what means she should take to ensure for herself quiet and privacy. She was incapable of any act of studied rudeness, but the prospect of listening to the woman's talk appalled her. Should she call the guard and ask to be given another seat in another compartment, or should she politely inform her fellow-traveller that she did not care to talk.
The lady flopped upon her seat, shook her head to see whether the coils of her hair were firmer, and then settled herself back among the cushions, smoothing out the creases of her cheap blanket-coat with a plump white hand.