"Lady's through breakfus, suh, and would like to see yuh w'en convenient," was the message: and two seconds later Stateroom A's rightful owner was humbly knocking at the door.
The girl's beauty struck the man anew as she smiled him a welcome. She was as well groomed as if she had had a lady's maid.
"Has anything happened? Have you had any trouble on my account?" she inquired.
When Roger said no, nothing had happened, she drew a breath of relief.
"No one in any way noticeable has tried to get acquainted with you?"
"The conductor and porter and a waiter or two are the only persons I've exchanged a word with—except a fellow I know slightly, named O'Reilly, a Congressman from California. I suppose he doesn't interest you?"
"No man interests me ... unless the one who is saving my life," the girl answered surprisingly. As she spoke, a wave of rose-colour poured over her face, and she turned quickly away in confusion. Roger felt that she had blurted it out, scarcely knowing what she said until too late. Instead of liking her less, he liked her better. He brought forth the envelope to show. It had been under his pillow all night, he told her.
"I don't know what I should have done without you!" she said, with a gratitude that was almost humble. There'd be a certain blankness, Roger couldn't help seeing, when the time came to do without her!
"When we get to Chicago," he asked, "how can I help you there?"
"Oh, I expect to be met by a friend. I suppose I shan't see you again: but I shall never forget."