ic waited, there came a certain flow in the
opposite direction. The 4:15 train had come in. People were
struggling along with luggage, children were running with spades and
buckets, cabs were crawling along with families: it was the seaside
people coming home. Alvina watched the two crowds mingle.

And as she watched she saw two men, one carrying a mandoline case
and a suit-case which she knew. It was Ciccio. She did not know the
other man; some theatrical individual. The two men halted almost
near the car, to watch the band go by. Alvina saw Ciccio quite near
to her. She would have liked to squirt water down his brown,
handsome, oblivious neck. She felt she hated him. He stood there,
watching the music, his lips curling in his faintly-derisive Italian
manner, as he talked to the other man. His eyelashes were as long
and dark as ever, his eyes had still the attractive look of being
set in with a smutty finger. He had got the same brownish suit on,
which she disliked, the same black hat set slightly, jauntily over
one eye. He looked common: and yet with that peculiar southern
aloofness which gave him a certain beauty and distinction in her
eyes. She felt she hated him, rather. She felt she had been let down
by him.

The band had passed. A child ran against the wheel of the standing
car. Alvina suddenly reached forward and made a loud, screeching
flourish on the hooter. Every one looked round, including the laden,
tramping soldiers.

"We can't move yet," said Dr. Mitchell.

But Alvina was looking at Ciccio at that moment. He had turned with
the rest, looking inquiringly at the car. And his quick eyes, the
whites of which showed so white against his duskiness, the yellow
pupils so non-human, met hers with a quick flash of recognition. His
mouth began to curl in a smile of greeting. But she stared at him
without moving a muscle, just blankly stared, abstracting every
scrap of feeling, even of animosity or coldness, out of her gaze.
She saw the smile die on his lips, his eyes glance sideways, and
again sideways, with that curious animal shyness which characterized
him. It was as if he did not want to see her looking at him, and ran
from side to side like a caged weasel, avoiding her blank, glaucous
look.

She turned pleasantly to Dr. Mitchell.

"What did you say?" she asked sweetly.

CHAPTER XII

ALLAYE ALSO IS ENGAGED

Alvina found it pleasant to be respected as she was respected in
Lancaster. It is no