y had brought several pairs of white gloves in order to have me
dismissed from the society of the train. A hand touched me. It was
Yvonne's. I awoke to a renewal of the maddening vibration. We had quitted
Paris long since. It was after seven o'clock. '_On dit que le diner est
servi, madame_ said Yvonne. I told her to go, and I collected my wits to
follow her. As I was emerging into the corridor, Miss Kate went by. I
smiled faintly, perhaps timidly. She cut me completely. Then I went out
into the corridor. A man was standing at the other end twirling his
moustaches. He turned round.

It was Frank.

He came towards me, uncertainly swaying with the movement of the
swaying train.

'Good God!' he muttered, and stopped within a yard of me.

I clung convulsively to the framework of the doorway. Our lives paused.

'Why have you followed me, Frank?' I asked gloomily, in a whisper.

I had meant to be severe, offended. I had not meant to put his name at
the end of my question, much less to utter it tenderly, like an
endearment. But I had little control over myself. I was almost breathless
with a fatal surprise, shaken with terrible emotion.

'I've not followed you,' he said. 'I joined the train at Paris. I'd no
idea you were on the train till I saw you in the corner asleep, through
the window of the compartment. I've been waiting here till you came out.'

'Have you seen the Vicarys?'

'Yes,' he answered.

'Ah! You've been away from London all this time?'

'I couldn't stay. I couldn't. I've been in Belgium and Holland. Then I
went to Paris. And now--you see me.'

'I'm going to Mentone,' I said. 'I had thought of Monte Carlo first, but
I changed my mind. Where are you going to?'

'Mentone,' he said.

We talked in hard, strained tones, avoiding each other's eyes. A string
of people passed along the car on their way to dinner. I withdrew into my
compartment, and Frank flattened himself against a window.

'Come in here a minute,' I said, when they were gone.

He entered the compartment and sat down opposite to me and lifted his
hand, perhaps unconsciously, to pull the door to.

'No,' I said; 'don't shut it. Leave it like that.'

He was dressed in a gray tourist suit. Never before had I seen him in any
but the formal attire of London. I thought he looked singularly graceful
and distinguished, even romantic, in that loose, soft clothing. But no
matter what he wore, Frank satisfied the eye. We were both extremely
ner