Until she was addressed the girl had not shown that she was aware of our presence in the carriage. She had not even glanced in our direction, and now, hearing herself spoken to, she turned a rather pale face and two almost startled grey eyes towards each of us in turn.
"D'you mind this?" enquired Milsom, in the kindly tolerant voice in which he spoke to women, and held out his iniquitous looking briar for her inspection.
The girl shook her head unsmiling. "Not at all. I—I——" she glanced swiftly from us to the window and the obvious
on the glass panel. "I beg your pardon," she said. "I didn't notice. I was late and the porter hustled me in——" She turned her eyes on me; she had well marked, delicate brows, and a firm chin. Altogether I thought her a remarkable-looking young woman (I was sitting with my back to the engine, facing her diagonally), and had it not been for a certain touch of diffidence in her rather shy manner, I should have written her down as decidedly strong-minded.
For a moment she looked as if she were contemplating flight to the corridors in search of another carriage.
"Train's very full," said Milsom, "but if you like I'll go and see if there's room in a non-smoker."
She shook her head. "I don't mind smoking—unless you mind my staying where I am?"
We both mumbled polite reassurances, and she returned to her book, obviously dismissing us completely from her consciousness.