“I think I’ll drop something and let him pick it up for me and get in a conversation with him,” Judy laughed to herself. “He is such a squire of dames, he is sure to pick it up.”
She turned the pages of her sketch book until she came to the quick impressions she had made of Madame Misel at the war relief rooms.
“The wretch!” was her inward comment, and her thoughts went back to the last days at Wellington. She looked up; her eye was again chained by the gaudy lavender spot and she suddenly became conscious that she could see the woman’s face in the large mirror at the end of the Pullman. Her eyes were down as she perused the pages of a magazine.
Another familiar face! Where under Heaven had she seen just that chin and nose? Her eyes fell again on the open sketch book. Why, it is Madame Misel—no other! With quick strokes she copied the sketch and then cleverly added the beplumed hat, fluffy collar and fashionably cut coat. The woman stood up for a moment to get something from the pocket of her great coat, hanging on the hook at one side, and then Judy took in her general contours standing, and added some draperies to the full length figure she had also obtained of Madame Misel in the work room. High heels were put on the flat, unstylish shoes. The straight severe dress and basque were transformed into the fashionable, if gaudy, creation. Judy was careful not to erase any of the original lines and all of the new parts she sketched in in dots and dashes.
The gentleman opposite was plainly interested in what she was doing and it evidently required all his self-control to keep from asking to be allowed to see.
“They are the Misels and they are running away!” flashed into Judy’s mind. “It is up to me to stop them—but how? The gent in checks is undoubtedly Misel. They can’t fool me; I remember his ears too well and the way his hands held things.”
She glanced across the aisle and her eyes met the bright blue ones belonging to the widow’s peak and cleft chin.
“What would Bobby do in this case?” she asked herself.
“Use the sense God gave him and get help if he couldn’t cope with a thing single-handed,” she answered herself.
She accordingly let her sketch book slide from her lap, rubber and pencil hopping gaily after it.