When they had finished their lunch, and began gathering and folding the napkins, Elizabeth observed something which had escaped Mrs. Koons’ notice. The left hand of their unknown companion bore a heavy gold band, undoubtedly a wedding-ring, guarded by a diamond noticeable for its size and brilliance. Her hands, too, were worthy of notice. They were white and soft, showing both good care and skilled manicuring. They were not the hands of one accustomed to manual labor.
As Elizabeth assisted her in clearing away the remains of the lunch, the conversation was directed toward herself.
“You got on the train at Bitumen,” she said. “I took particular notice of you, for there one expects to see only foreigners board the car.”
Elizabeth smiled. She knew how few were the times when an American-born woman or girl ever was seen near the station.
“We are mostly foreigners there,” she replied.
“Don’t you find it dull?”
“I never have so far. But then I never have known any life but that at Bitumen. This is my first trip away from home.” Her companion looked at her keenly. “Expectant schoolgirl” was written from the top of Elizabeth’s fair hair to the soles of her shoes. Her linen traveling dress was conspicuously new, as were her gloves and shoes.
“You are going to school, then?”
“Yes; to Exeter Hall.” Elizabeth wondered in her own mind how she knew.
“You’ll like it there. That is, unless you are the exception among girls. I was a student there over thirty years ago. I liked it, I’m sure. And every girl student I’ve ever met, and I meet them by the score, has no voice except to sing its praises.”