He knew that he could never quite forget the night they had made the hazardous descent together, and her courage and quiet composure under stress and strain had had their effect on him. The imperious anger with which she had turned on him when he forced her away from Miss Kinnaird had also stirred him curiously. He could still, when he chose, see her standing in the moonlight with a flash in her eyes, questioning his authority to prevent her from snaring her companion’s peril. She was, he felt, one who would stand by her friends. He was young, and the fact that she had seen him supporting the lurching Grenfell at the station troubled him.
He had smoked his pipe out twice when he heard the vestibule door click, and he started when he looked up, for Ida Stirling stood beside him. Her light dress fluttered about her, and she stood with one hand resting on the rail. There was no doubt that she recognized him, and when he rose and took off his shapeless hat she looked at him steadily for a moment or two. He wondered whether he were right in his surmises as to why she did this; and, though his forehead grew a trifle hot, he decided that he could not blame her. Appearances had certainly been against him.
“I am going to join Mrs. Kinnaird. She is in the car behind the sleeper, and that is farther along;” she said.
Weston moved so that she might step across to the adjoining car; but she did not seem to notice this, and leaned on the rail close beside him.
“The train is very hot with the lamps lighted,” she said.
Weston understood this to mean that she was disposed to stay where she was and talk to him awhile, which suggested that she was to some extent reassured about his condition.
“Yes,” he returned, “it is. In fact, I felt it myself. The smell of the pines is a good deal pleasanter.”
There was nothing original in the observation, and, though the roar of wheels made it a trifle difficult to hear, he was careful as to how he modulated his voice. Perhaps he was superfluously careful, for he saw a smile creep into Ida’s eyes.
“You seem amused,” he said, and, for they stood in the moonlight, the blood showed in his face.
“Why did you speak—like that?” his companion asked.