“You don’t have to see to that, surely?”
She spoke idly, for something to say, and she was surprised when he raised his eyes quickly to hers and she caught a look of furtive alarm in them.
“No, I don’t have to see to that; but some of the old men have been troublesome. They wanted their berths back with more pay; and then we’ve lost two we tried to get. It’s hard to get tried men to volunteer for the sort of trip we’re making.”
She assented to that, and tried to finish her breakfast. Having no appetite, the pretense of eating was difficult. She saw him looking again at his watch—the third time since they had sat down at their meal.
“Have you an appointment?” she asked gently. “You seem in a hurry.”
He thrust his watch back into his pocket. “I’m not in a hurry, I—can you remember what time the trains are due from Mapleton, Di?”
She was startled. Her thoughts leaped to her father, and she felt a queer tightening in her throat.
“There was one due at a quarter to eight, and”—she looked up at the clock on the mantel—“if that’s right, there’s one due now.”
“Perhaps he’s coming on that!” he exclaimed, rising from his seat and going to the window.
His tall figure and wide shoulders rather obscured the light as he stood there, and she viewed him with a return of the feeling that she did not know him.