"And if I hadn't told you my name, you would have asked for it."
"Not the first day."
"Well, you would have on Tuesday."
"Not a bit of a doubt." He certainly wouldn't show her how much he cared. (What was she doing in this carriage? She had said nothing that morning about traveling.)
"Well, you will admit that under the circumstances I had the right to give any name it pleased me to give."
He came over to her end and sat down. Her protests (half-hearted) he ignored.
"I can not see very well from over there," he explained.
"It is not necessary that you should see; you can hear what I have to say."
"Very well; I'll go back." And he did. He made a fine pretense of looking out of the window. Why should this girl cross his path at this unhappy moment?
There was a pause.