"I may come across you, then," I ventured.
She smiled at me. It was wonderful what a difference the smile made in her face. To me she seemed at that moment radiantly beautiful.
"It would be very pleasant," she said. "I know no one in London. I expect to be alone a great deal. You live in London?" she asked.
"As much there as anywhere," I answered. "I have never settled down since I sent in my papers."
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
"I was badly knocked about at Ladysmith," I answered, "and I could not get round in time. I haven't altogether finished soldiering, though," I added. "At least, I hope not."
"But where do you call your home, then?" she asked timidly.
"I am not one of those fortunate persons who possess one," I answered. "I spend a great deal of time in Norfolk with my brother, and I have just a couple of rooms in town."
The train had slackened speed. All around us was a wide-spreading arc of yellow lights. The clearness had gone from the atmosphere. The little current of air which came in through the half-open window was already murky and depressing.
"It is London?" she asked.