Her surprise was apparent; she made no effort to conceal it. "But," she faltered, "if not there—"
"'Give you my word, Mrs. Hallam, I have no intention whatever of going to Queensborough," Kirkwood protested.
"I don't understand." The nervous drumming of a patent-leather covered toe, visible beneath the hem of her dress, alone betrayed a rising tide of impatience. "Then my intuition was at fault!"
"In this instance, if it was at all concerned with my insignificant affairs, yes—most decidedly at fault."
She shook her head, regarding him with grave suspicion. "I hardly know: whether to believe you. I think...."
Kirkwood's countenance displayed an added shade of red. After a moment, "I mean no discourtesy," he began stiffly, "but—"
"But you don't care a farthing whether I believe you or not?"
He caught her laughing eye, and smiled, the flush subsiding.
"Very well, then! Now let us see: Where are you bound?"
Kirkwood looked out of the window.