A voice fell like a falling star: “Gentlemen do not use profane language in ladies' company.”
He first looked up in the air, as on the whole the likeliest quarter for a voice to come from in this desert, then around. Just on the other side of the track stood Miss Dwyer, smiling, with a somewhat constrained attempt at self-possession. Lombard was a good deal taken aback, but in his surprise he did not forget that this was the young lady who had refused him that afternoon.
“I beg your pardon,” he replied, with a stiff bow; “I did not suppose that there were any ladies within hearing.”
“I got out of the car supposing there was plenty of time to get a specimen of sagebrush to carry home,” she explained; “but when the cars started, although I was but a little way off, I could not regain the platform;” which, considering that she wore a tie-back of the then prevalent fashion, was not surprising.
“Indeed!” replied Lombard, with the same formal manner.
“But won't the train come back for us?” she asked, in a more anxious voice.
“That will depend on whether we are missed. Nobody will miss me. Mrs. Eustis, if she hasn't gone to bed, may miss you.”
“But she has. She went to bed before I left the car, and is asleep by this time.”
“That 's unfortunate,” was his brief reply, as he lit a cigar and began to smoke and contemplate the stars.
His services, so far as he could do anything for her, she should, as a lady, command, but if she thought that he was going to do the agreeable after what had happened a few hours ago, she was mightily mistaken.