even her
ears seemed trying to shut out their half-smothered rough talk. The car
started with a bump that swayed her toward him, and when she caught the
seat with one hand, it checked as suddenly, throwing her the other way,
and then with a leap it sprang ahead again, giving a nagging snap to her
head. Her whole face grew red with vexation and shrinking distaste,
and all the while, when the little train steadied into its creaking,
puffing, jostling way, one gloved hand on the chased silver handle of
her smart little umbrella kept nervously swaying it to and fro on its
steel-shod point, until she saw that the point was in a tiny pool of
tobacco juice, and then she laid it across her lap with shuddering
swiftness.

At first Hale thought that she had shrunk from kissing him in the car
because other people were around. He knew better now. At that moment he
was as rough and dirty as the chain-carrier opposite him, who was just
in from a surveying expedition in the mountains, as the sooty brakeman
who came through to gather up the fares--as one of those good-natured,
profane inebriates up in the corner. No, it was not publicity--she had
shrunk from him as she was shrinking now from black smoke, rough men,
the shaking of the train--the little pool of tobacco juice at her feet.
The truth began to glimmer through his brain. He understood, even when
she leaned forward suddenly to look into the mouth of the gap, that was
now dark with shadows. Through that gap lay her way and she thought him
now more a part of what was beyond than she who had been born of it was,
and dazed by the thought, he wondered if he might not really be. At once
he straightened in his seat, and his mind made up, as he always made it
up--swiftly. He had not explained why he had not met her that morning,
nor had he apologized for his rough garb, because he was so glad to see
her and because there were so many other things he wanted to say; and
when he saw her, conscious and resentful, perhaps, that he had not done
these things at once--he deliberately declined to do them now. He became
silent, but he grew more courteous, more thoughtful--watchful. She was
very tired, poor child; there were deep shadows under her eyes which
looked weary and almost mournful. So, when with a clanging of the engine
bell they stopped at the brilliantly lit hotel, he led her at once
upstairs to the parlour, and from there sent her up to her room, which
was ready for her.

"You mu