Her heart throbbed heavily at her boldness. Even now she was not sure what answer she meant to make; why was she encouraging him to ask the question?
But though he had promised himself to ask it on the journey, Lee hesitated. The question surged to his throat, and swelled immensely and stuck there. A great timidity was on the nigger who had just swaggered before a multitude. The man's heart throbbed heavily at his cowardice.
He leant forward, and tucked the rug round her. He was rather a long time tucking the rug round her. "Is that better?" he muttered. "You're not cold?"
"Thank you. No, I'm as warm as can be. Oughtn't you to keep your wrap round your neck?"
"Not in here," he said; "I'll put it on again at the other end. Sunset is the worst time for me, too—not night."
"That's funny."
"I believe it's the worst time for all singers."
The velocity of the train seemed to him phenomenal, and a sudden misgiving seized him about the second door: somebody might intrude on them at the first stoppage, in spite of the tip. The minutes flew, and in every flashing bank and tree he saw a danger-signal.
"Why?" he said at last.
"'Why'?" She was at a loss.