"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've got the sort of cigarette you like."
At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles saw to it that they had it to themselves; he also persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden box to put her feet on, because he thought the seats were too high for her.
It seemed a very short journey.
Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they arrived; a little gentleman immaculately neat (it was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail and finish)—who looked both washed-out and dried-up. He embraced her with considerable solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear child! You look better than I expected."
"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We happened to travel together."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station together as a matter of course.
Then came the question of plans.
Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a list as long as her arm, but was entirely at her father's disposal as to whether she should do it before or after lunch.
Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at once, while it was still fairly cool, and then she could have all her parcels sent to the station to meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of Meg. The little Major agreed that this would be the best course. He would stroll round to his club while Meg was shopping, and meet her
when she thought she would have finished. They walked to the promenade and dropped her at Cavendish House. Miles, explaining that he had to go to Smith's to look at a horse, asked for directions from the Major. Their way was the same, and without so much as bidding her farewell, Miles strolled up one of the prettiest promenades in England in company with her father. Meg felt rather dazed.