"At the far end," said the conductor with the sweeping gesture of a man used to talking with his arms.
"Good-bye, Mr. Welles," said Eugenia, giving him for an instant a small, pearl-gray hand. "Boa voyage! Good luck!"
"Same to you," said the old gentleman, scrambling up the unswept, cinder-covered steps into the day-coach.
At the front end of the train, the baggage man was tumbling into the express car the fine, leather-covered boxes and the one square trunk.
Neale carried Eugenia's two small bags down to the drawing-room car and now handed them to the porter.
The two women kissed each other on both cheeks, hurriedly, as someone cried, "All aboard!"
Eugenia took Neale's outstretched hand. "Good-bye, Neale," she said.
With the porter's aid, she mounted the rubber-covered steps into the mahogany and upholstery of the drawing-room car.
"Good luck, Eugenia! Bon voyage!" called Neale after her.
She did not turn around or look back.