He stood perfectly still for half a minute it seemed—making no effort toward a civilized greeting.
"Well!" I responded—as soon as I could.
"This is queer, isn't it?"
I looked at him.
"'Queer?'" I managed to repeat—that is, I heard the word escaping past the tightening muscles of my throat. "Queer!"
"Most extraordinary!"
"I should—I think I should like to sit down!" I decided, as he continued to stand staring at me, and I suddenly realized that I was very tired.
He moved aside.
"By all means! Come in and sit down, Miss Christie. This station fellow here tells me that you have been disappointed in your train."
"I have," I answered.