“Didn’t know you were travelling with us to-night, Miss,” he remarked.
She smiled upon him, and tearing out the fly-leaf, folded and handed it to him with a look which apparently he understood. He bowed and retired.
Symington had got the length of admitting to himself that in other circumstances she might have made a pleasant enough travelling companion, when the official again appeared. Not a little to Symington’s surprise it was himself who the man now addressed.
“Excuse me, sir,” came the polite English speech, “but I can find you a comfortable seat in another part of the train.”
After a slight pause—“Thanks,” said Symington shortly, “but I’m pretty well where I am.”
“Sorry sir, but this compartment is reserved for ladies only,” said the other, politely as before, and proceeded to affix to the window a label bearing out his statement.
Symington hesitated, but he had the wit to realize that there was nothing for it but to go. Bluster would only make him ridiculous. With what dignity he could command he said to Kitty, “I’ll see you when we arrive,” favoured the intruder with a scowl which ought to have slain her, but which nearly made her smile, and followed the official.
And Kitty began to sob helplessly, her face in her handkerchief.
At the end of, perhaps, a couple of minutes she felt a light touch on her shoulder, and was aware that the intruder was sitting down beside her.
“If you cry any longer,” said a calm low-pitched voice, “I’ll be thinking I did the wrong thing in interfering. Besides, the attendant will be here immediately with some tea for us, and he might think he had done the wrong thing, too. Also, you have nothing to cry about now—have you?”