I broke off and looked at her. There was trouble in her great eyes.
The small foot tapped the floor nervously. One gloved hand gripped the
arm of her seat. I could have sworn the red lips quivered a moment
ago. I leaned forward.

"Lass," I said, "is it important that you should be at Friars Rory this
morning?"

She looked up quickly. Then, with a half-laugh, "I did want to
rather," she said. "But it can't be helped. You see, my mare, Dear
One--she's been taken ill, and--and--oh, I am a fool," she said,
turning away, her big eyes full of tears.

"No, you're not," said I sturdily, patting her hand.

"I know what it is to have a sick horse. Buck up, lass! We'll be
there within the hour."

"What d'you mean?" she said, feeling in her bag for a handkerchief.

"I have a plan," said I mysteriously. "Can't you find it?"

She felt in the pocket of her coat and turned to the bag again.

"I'm afraid my maid must have--"

I took a spare handkerchief from my breast-pocket.

"Would you care to honour me by using this to--er--"

"Go on," she said, taking it with a smile.

"To brush away some of the prettiest tears--"

She laughed exquisitely, put the handkerchief to her eyes, and then
smiled her thanks over the white cambric. I let down the window
nearest me and put out my head. A long look assured me that we were
nearing Ringley. My idea was to pull the cord, stop the train in the
station, pay the fine, and raise a car in the town, which should bring
us to Rory in forty minutes by road.

"But what are you going to do?" said the girl.

"Wait," said I over my shoulder. Again I put out my head. In the
distance I could see red houses--Ringley. I put up my right hand and
felt for the chain. As I did so, there seemed to be less weigh on the
train--a strange feeling. I hesitated, the wind flying in my face. We
were not going so fast--so evenly. Yet, if we had run through Shy
Junction, surely we were not going to stop at---- The next moment I
saw what it was. We were the last coach, and there was a gap, widening
slowly, between us and the rest of the train. We had been slipped. I
took in my head to find my companion clasping my arm and crying.

"No, no. You mustn't, you mustn't. You're awfully good, but--"

"It's all right," I said. "I didn't have to. We're in the Ringley
slip."

"And we're going to stop there?"

"Probably with an unconscionable jerk--a proper full stop. None of
your comma