“Very well, madam—to please you, we will go on.”
They talked in any foolish way that pleased them, and they did not hurry on the journey.
He had a time-table of the dates of sailing of the Japanese line they were to travel by, and a stateroom engaged on each boat sailing for the next month.
One after one he relinquished them, by telegraph, as the days slipped by.
They stopped off for two weeks at a high mountain inn that they liked; and several times they rested for days in some spot that pleased her fancy.
He watched her face. When it grew fatigued, he gave directions to the Japanese courier who had joined them at a point on the journey, and they left the train at the next station.
The courier came and went like a shadow along the route—sometimes ahead of them and sometimes following, but always at hand when he was needed.
Eleanor grew to watch for his face as if he were a kind of meteor that played a game with them.
“There he is!” she would exclaim at some station as she looked out and caught a glimpse of him. “There he is, Richard!” And if the train went on without him, she would press her face to the glass and lean forward to watch till he was out of sight.
“What a wonderful people!” she said. “When I see him I seem to understand—almost! And then he is gone! Is he going with us—all the way?”