m
coming down the church path, conscious of a somewhat pleasurable sense
of anticipation, and when he had passed under the lichgate and, turning
to the left, came face to face with her, she bowed and smiled, holding
out her hand.

To her utter amazement he looked at her without the faintest sign of
recognition on his face, pausing only for the fraction of a second as a
man may when some stranger claims his acquaintance by mistake; then
with a murmured "Pardon!" he raised his hat slightly and passed on.

Diana's hand dropped slowly to her side. She felt stunned. The thing
seemed incredible. Less than a week ago she and this man had travelled
companionably together in the train, dined at the same table, and
together shared the same dreadful menace which had brought death very
close to both of them, and now he passed her by with the cool stare of
an utter stranger! If he had knocked her down she would hardly have
been more astonished.

Moreover, it was not as though her companionship had been forced upon
him in the train; he had deliberately sought it. Two people can travel
side by side without advancing a single hairsbreadth towards
acquaintance if they choose. But he had not so chosen--most assuredly
he had not. He had quietly, with a charmingly persuasive insistence,
broken through the conventions of custom, and had subsequently proved
himself as considerate and as thoughtful for her comfort as any actual
friend could have been. More than that, in those moments of tense
excitement, immediately after the collision had occurred, she could
have sworn that real feeling, genuine concern for her safety, had
vibrated in his voice.

And now, just as deliberately, just as composedly as he had begun the
acquaintance, so he had closed it.

Diana's cheeks burned with shame. She felt humiliated. Evidently he
had regarded her merely as some one with whom it might he agreeable to
idle away the tedium of a journey--but that was all. It was obviously
his intention that that should be the beginning and the end of it.

In a dream she crossed the road and, opening the gate that admitted to
the "church path," made her way home alone. She felt she must have a
few minutes to herself before she faced the Rector and Joan at the
Rectory mid-day dinner. Fortunately, they were both in ignorance of
this amazing, stupefying fact that her fellow-traveller--the "gallant
rescuer" about whom Pobs had so joyously chaffed her--had sign