Mona turned very pale.
"I cannot help it," she said. "He has treated me cruelly, and he cannot expect me to forget it all in a moment." But I think it would have done Ralph's heart good if he could have seen the expression of her face.
Very slowly the train moved off, but Ralph's lucky star must have been in the ascendant, for at the last moment a party of rough men burst open the door, and projected themselves into the carriage where Mona was sitting alone. They did not mean to be offensive, but they laughed and talked loudly, and spat on the floor, and fondled their pipes in a way that was not suggestive of prolonged abstinence from the not very fragrant weed.
At the first station Ralph opened the door.
"You seem rather crowded here," he said, in a voice of cold courtesy. "There is more room in a carriage further along. Do you think it worth while to move?"
"Thank you," said Mona, and she rose and took his hand.
"Let me not lose my pride!" she prayed again, but she felt, as she had done that night long ago in the shadow of the frosted pines, as if the earth was slipping away from under her feet.
He followed her into the carriage and closed the door. It was big with meaning for both of them, the sound of that closing door.
Neither spoke until the train had moved off.
"You need not have been so afraid to grant me an interview, Miss Maclean," he said at length. "I only wished to ask your forgiveness."