This belated feat of memory encouraged Miss Webling to 86 hope that she could remember a little farther back to the contents of the letter and the telephone number written there. But her memory would not respond. The effort to cudgel it seemed to confuse it. She kept on forgetting more and more completely.
All she could remember was what Polly Widdicombe had said about there being no chance to get into a hotel––“an hôtel,” Marie Louise still thought it.
It grew more and more evident that the train would be hours late. People began to worry audibly about the hotels that would probably refuse them admission. At length they began to stroll toward the dining-car for an early dinner.
Marie Louise, to make sure of the meal and for lack of other employment, went along. There was no queue in the corridor now. She did not have to take That Man’s place. She found one at a little empty table. But by and by he appeared, and, though there were other vacant seats, he sat down opposite her.
She could hardly order the conductor to eject him. In fact, seeing that she owed him for her seat–– It suddenly smote her that he must have paid for it. She owed him money! This was unendurable!
He made no attempt to speak to her, but at length she found courage to speak to him.
“I beg your pardon––”
He looked up and about for the salt or something to pass, but she went on:
“May I ask you how much you paid for the seat you gave me?”
He laughed outright at this unexpected demand: