lways
had to see something before it made a sign. His good looks, which were
striking, perhaps paid his way--his six feet and more of stature, his
low-growing, tight-curling hair, his big, bare, blooming face. He was a
fine piece of human furniture--he made a small party seem more numerous.
This, at least, was the impression of him that had revived before I
stepped out again to the platform, and it armed me only at first with
surprise when I saw him come down to me as if for a greeting. If he had
decided at last to treat me as an acquaintance made, it was none the
less a case for letting him come all the way. That, accordingly, was
what he did, and with so clear a conscience, I hasten to add, that at
the end of a minute we were talking together quite as with the tradition
of prompt intimacy. He was good-looking enough, I now again saw, but not
such a model of it as I had seemed to remember; on the other hand his
manners had distinctly gained in ease. He referred to our previous
encounters and common contacts--he was glad I was going; he peeped into
my compartment and thought it better than his own. He called a porter,
the next minute, to shift his things, and while his attention was so
taken I made out some of the rest of the contingent, who were finding or
had already found places.

This lasted till Long came back with his porter, as well as with a lady
unknown to me and to whom he had apparently mentioned that our carriage
would pleasantly accommodate her. The porter carried in fact her
dressing-bag, which he put upon a seat and the bestowal of which left
the lady presently free to turn to me with a reproach: "I don't think it
very nice of you not to speak to me." I stared, then caught at her
identity through her voice; after which I reflected that she might
easily have thought me the same sort of ass as I had thought Long. For
she was simply, it appeared, Grace Brissenden. We had, the three of us,
the carriage to ourselves, and we journeyed together for more than an
hour, during which, in my corner, I had my companions opposite. We began
at first by talking a little, and then as the train--a fast one--ran
straight and proportionately bellowed, we gave up the effort to compete
with its music. Meantime, however, we had exchanged with each other a
fact or two to turn over in silence. Brissenden was coming later--not,
indeed, that that was such a fact. But his wife was informed--she knew
about the numerous others; she ha