"We shall be there in ten minutes," I answered, looking out.
She leaned over and waked her uncle. He sat up drowsily.
"We shall be there in ten minutes," she said.
"So soon!" he answered. "Do you know on which side we arrive, sir?" he asked me.
"On your side," I answered.
He rose to his feet, and commenced to wrap a scarf around his neck.
"You will be smothered," the girl remarked.
"I am cold," he answered, in a low tone. "I am always cold after I have crossed the Channel. Besides, it is the damp air. You, too, will find it so in London, Felicia. You must be careful."
Already he was peering out of the window into the darkness. I could not help wondering whether it was sea-sickness alone which was responsible for his haggard features, for that grim look of covert fear which seemed to have settled around his mouth and eyes. To me he seemed like a man who is about to face the unknown, and who fears!
The train began to slacken pace. We drew into the station. I noticed that a man was standing by himself at this remote end of the platform, and that as we passed he seemed to look intently into our carriage.