her forehead, and in a long plait behind, after the
schoolgirl fashion. Notwithstanding the _gaucherie_ of her years and her
apparent unhappiness, she carried herself with a certain dignity and
grace of movement which were wonderfully impressive. I watched her
admiringly.

"They are rather a puzzle," I admitted. "I suppose they might very well
be father and daughter. It is certain that she is fresh from some
convent boarding-school. I don't like the way she looks at the man, do
you? It is as though she were terrified to death. I wonder if he is her
father?"

My companion did not answer me. He was straining forward as though
anxious to hear the instructions which the man was giving to a porter
about the luggage; my presence seemed to be a thing which he had wholly
forgotten. The girl stood for a moment alone. More than ever one seemed
to perceive in her eyes the nameless fear of the hunted animal. She
looked around her furtively, yet with a strange, half-veiled wildness in
her dilated eyes. I should scarcely have been surprised to have seen her
make a sudden dash for freedom. Presently, however, the man, having
identified all his luggage, turned towards her.

"That's all right," he declared cheerfully. "Now I think that I shall
take you straight away for lunch somewhere, and then we must go to the
shops. Are you hungry, Isobel?"

"I--I do not know," she answered, so tremulously that the words scarcely
reached us, though we were standing only a few feet away.

"We will soon find out," he said. "Hansom, there! Cafe Grand!"

The cab drove off, and I realized then how completely for the last few
moments I had forgotten my companion. I turned to look for him, and
found him standing close to my side. He was apparently absorbed in
thought, and seemed to have lost all interest in our surroundings. His
hands were thrust deep in his overcoat pockets, and his eyes were fixed
upon the ground. The stream of people from the train had melted away
now, and we were almost alone upon the platform. I hesitated for a
moment, and then walked slowly off. I did not wish to seem discourteous
to the man with whom I had exchanged a few remarks more intimate than
those which usually pass between strangers, but he had distinctly the
air of one wishing to be alone, and I was unwilling to seem intrusive. I
had barely taken a dozen steps, however, before I was overtaken. My
companion of a few minutes before was again by my side. All traces of