them.

"I shall have to fight about my ticket with the ticket collector when he
comes round. It is only a second-class one. I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind!" said Diana. "I hate everyone in authority, and I love rows and
cocktails and excitement. Still, it might save time to pay."

"It might," said the other "but I'm not going to. There were no
second-class seats left, so the onus is on them. Besides"--her creamy
face flushed faintly and her eyes became defiant--"I can't afford it."

Diana could very well believe it, for she had seldom seen a girl so badly
dressed. However, the deep blue eyes that had all sorts of pansy tints
lying dormant in them, and the winging black satin hair that looked as if
smoke had been blown through it, could not be obscured even by a shabby
hat. Diana's own hair being a violent apricot and her eyes of the same
colour as a glass of sherry with the sun on it, she could admire without
pain this type so different to her own.

The fact was that they were as striking a pair of girls as any one could
hope to meet in a day's march, but the delicate beauty of one was under a
cloud which only a connoisseur's eye could see through--badly-cut
garments and an unfashionable hat! On the other hand, Lady Diana's
highly-coloured and slightly dairymaidish prettiness would have been more
attractive in simpler and less costly clothes. While they were coming to
these conclusions about each other an inspector of tickets entered the
carriage. Diana delightedly braced herself for a row, but there was no
need for it. Whether it was the charm of the strange girl's golden
voice, or the subtle air of luxury and independence combined with a faint
odour of Russian leather and honey that stole from the furs of Lady Diana
Vernilands, none can tell, but the inspector behaved like a man under the
influence of hypnotism. He listened to the tale of the second-class
ticket as to words of Holy Writ, and departed like a man in a dream
without having uttered a single protest, and at Lady Diana's behest,
carefully locking the door behind him. A moment later whistles, shouts,
and the clicking of hundreds of farewell kisses signalled the train's
immediate departure. The devoted Marney, carrying what appeared to be a
bridal bouquet of white lilies and roses, dashed up just in time to make
a last attempt to accompany her mistress. But the door was unyielding,
and the worst she could do was to claw at the window as she