“I’m not on my way home now,” she said. “I’ve been visiting in New York and I’m going to St. Louis to make another visit.”
“But your name!”
She gave him an odd glance of mockery, a little troubled.
“You mightn’t like my name!”
“Oh, please, please!”
“Besides, do you think it’s quite proper for me to——”
“Oh, please! To talk of that now! Please!” The train had stopped.
The glint of a sudden decision shone in the lovely eyes. “I’ll write it for you so you won’t forget.”
She went quickly to the writing desk at the end of the compartment, he with her, the eyes of the fat man and his wife following them like two pairs of searchlights swung by the same mechanism.
“And where you live,” urged Henry. “I shall write to you every day.” He drew a long, deep breath and threw back his head. “Till the day—the day when I come for you.”