"It's dreadful, isn't it?" wailed Belinda.
He shook his head. "It's heavenly," he said.
She tried to look puzzled again, but broke down, blushed, and became absorbed in the landscape.
"My name is Morgan Hamilton."
She shot a swift look at him, then turned to the window again.
"I'm Miss Carewe, one of Miss Ryder's teachers."
"Yes; I knew you weeks ago."
Belinda lost her grasp upon her dignity and laughed.
"Then it isn't like going to Albany with a perfect stranger," she said with an air of profound relief.
The trip to Albany is a short one—much shorter than the railway time-schedules indicate. Both Belinda and Morgan Hamilton are prepared to testify to that effect. Also, they are willing to swear that the time between the arrival of the Chicago Express at Albany and the coming of the next New York train is grossly over-estimated. As the local train pulled into the Albany station a look of conscious guilt mingled with the excitement upon Belinda's face.