Alvina strolled away towards the half-open bookstall. Geoffrey was standing monumental between her and the company. She returned to him.
“What time shall we expect you?” she said.
He smiled at her in his broad, friendly fashion.
“Expect me to be there? Why—” he rolled his eyes and proceeded to calculate. “At four o’clock.”
“Just about the time when we get there,” she said.
He looked at her sagely, and nodded.
They were a good-humoured company in the railway carriage. The men smoked cigarettes and tapped off the ash on the heels of their boots, Madame watched every traveller with professional curiosity. Max scrutinized the newspaper, Lloyds, and pointed out items to Louis, who read them over Max’s shoulder, Ciccio suddenly smacked Geoffrey on the thigh, and looked laughing into his face. So till they arrived at the junction. And then there was a kissing and a taking of farewells, as if the company were separating for ever. Louis darted into the refreshment bar and returned with little pies and oranges, which he deposited in the carriage, Madame presented Alvina with a packet of chocolate. And it was “Good-bye, good-bye, Allaye! Good-bye, Ciccio! Bon voyage. Have a good time, both.”
So Alvina sped on in the fast train to Knarborough with Ciccio.
“I do like them all,” she said.
He opened his mouth slightly and lifted his head up and down. She saw in the movement how affectionate he was, and in his own way, how emotional. He loved them all. She put her hand to his. He gave her hand one sudden squeeze, of physical understanding, then left it as if nothing had happened. There were other people in the carriage with them. She could not help feeling how sudden and lovely that moment’s grasp of his hand was: so warm, so whole.