"At the next station we will be able to change cars for New York. The conductor tells me we shall only be compelled to wait a short time."
"I will rest then until we get there," I said, no doubt very wearily, for I felt not only dizzy, but slightly faint, and sank into my chair. He looked down at me, and then said, in more gentle fashion than he had ever before addressed me:
"I am very sorry, Medoline, to have caused you so much needless fatigue."
I quite forgot my weariness then. It was so comforting to know he could acknowledge regret for anything, and that his heart was not made of flint, as, unconfessed to myself, I had partly imagined.
I looked up brightly. "I do not know if I am not rather glad than sorry that we have shown ourselves such forgetful travelers. It will be something unusual to remember."
"That is a very kindly way to look on my forgetfulness—rather, I should say, stupidity." He sat down then, and the short remaining distance we passed in silence.
We were both very prompt in responding to the summons given by the conductor when our station was reached. The waiting-room was well lighted and warmed, and a welcome odor of food pervaded the air. I resolved to make a little foray on my own account, to secure, if possible, a bit of luncheon; but, after seeing me comfortably seated by a hot stove, Mr. Winthrop left, only to return in a few moments with the welcome announcement that refreshments were awaiting us. I expressed my surprise that food should be in readiness at that unseasonable hour.
"Oh, I telegraphed an hour ago to have it prepared," he replied.
"Then I was sleeping a good while," I said, ruefully.
"An hour or two. I only wakened you in time to collect yourself for changing cars."