Noticing that she spoke in the past tense and remarking her mourning dress, he surmised that her parents were dead. She interested him, and it was more sympathy than idle curiosity that prompted the query:
"Where do you live—New York?"
She shook her head.
"No, I live here, or, rather, have done so until quite recently. I'm going to America next Saturday—to live there for good."
"Next Saturday!" he cried, in surprise. "Say, that's odd! I'm going on the Touraine myself!"
"The Touraine—yes—I think that's the name of the boat." Almost apologetically she added: "You see I haven't travelled very much." Looking at him more closely, she inquired:
"You are an American?"
He grinned, showing fine white teeth.
"I try to be. Greatest country on earth. My name's Todhunter Chase—'Tod' for short you know. Everyone calls me Tod. It's hard to be dignified with such a name, ain't it?"
Suddenly the girl caught sight of her painting which, hurled a dozen paces away, was lying face down in the dust.