“Is this compartment engaged?” she asked in a low voice that was almost a whisper.
“No, madam.” Washington rose, hat in hand.
“Would you mind?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Why, surely! Sit down, ma’am,” said the gallant American. “Would you like the corner seat by the window?”
She shook her head, and sat down near the door, turning her face from him.
“Do you mind my smoking?” asked Washington, after a while.
“Please smoke,” she said, and again turned her face away.
“English,” thought Mr. Washington in disgust, and hunched himself for an hour and a half of unrelieved silence.
A whistle blew, the train moved slowly from the platform, and Elijah Washington’s adventurous journey had begun.
They were passing through Croydon when the girl rose, and, leaning out, closed the little glass-panelled door.