"Oh, I know. And I'm awfully grateful. I really am. I don't know why
I didn't jump sooner. I saw the train, too. I simply couldn't move.
I seemed to be glued there—until you shouted. It was lucky you were
there."
She buried her face in her hands a moment and when she straightened was quite calm again.
"It's all over now, Mr. Markham, and I'm awfully obliged," she said with a laugh. "You seem fated to be the recording angel of my maddest ventures."
"It was madness," he insisted.
"I know it," she sighed. "And yet I'm quite sure I would do it again."
"I don't doubt that in the least," he replied gravely, concealing a smile as one would have done from a mischievous child.
There was a silence.
"The world is very small, isn't it, Mr. Markham?" she asked. "What on earth are you doing here?
"I? Oh, vagabonding. It's a habit I have, I'm doing Normandy."
She examined him from top to toe and then said amusedly: