big
black box on which the red words Natcha-Kee-Tawara showed mystic, and
round the small bunch of stage fittings at the end of the platform.
Louis was waiting to get the tickets, Gigi and Ciccio were bringing up
the bicycles. They were a whole train of departure in themselves, busy,
bustling, cheerful--and curiously apart, vagrants.

Alvina strolled away towards the half-open bookstall. Geoffrey was
standing monumental between her and the company. She returned to
him.

"What time shall we expect you?" she said.

He smiled at her in his broad, friendly fashion.

"Expect me to be there? Why--" he rolled his eyes and proceeded to
calculate. "At four o'clock."

"Just about the time when we get there," she said.

He looked at her sagely, and nodded.

They were a good-humoured company in the railway carriage. The men
smoked cigarettes and tapped off the ash on the heels of their
boots, Madame watched every traveller with professional curiosity.
Max scrutinized the newspaper, Lloyds, and pointed out items to
Louis, who read them over Max's shoulder, Ciccio suddenly smacked
Geoffrey on the thigh, and looked laughing into his face. So till
they arrived at the junction. And then there was a kissing and a
taking of farewells, as if the company were separating for ever.
Louis darted into the refreshment bar and returned with little pies
and oranges, which he deposited in the carriage, Madame presented
Alvina with a packet of chocolate. And it was "Good-bye, good-bye,
Allaye! Good-bye, Ciccio! Bon voyage. Have a good time, both."

So Alvina sped on in the fast train to Knarborough with Ciccio.

"I _do_ like them all," she said.

He opened his mouth slightly and lifted his head up and down. She
saw in the movement how affectionate he was, and in his own way, how
emotional. He loved them all. She put her hand to his. He gave her
hand one sudden squeeze, of physical understanding, then left it as
if nothing had happened. There were other people in the carriage
with them. She could not help feeling how sudden and lovely that
moment's grasp of his hand was: so warm, so whole.

And thus they watched the Sunday morning landscape slip by, as they
ran into Knarborough. They went out to a little restaurant to eat.
It was one o'clock.

"Isn't it strange, that we are travelling together like this?" she
said, as she sat opposite him.

He smiled, looking into her eyes.

"You think it's strange?" he said, showing his teeth sli