n for
another hour," he said coolly, with a glance at his watch. "I can get
off at the next stop. Meanwhile--Miss Jeannette, the observation
platform seems to be nearly empty. Would you care to sit out there a
while, since I've no chair in here now and the car is full?"

Georgiana, sitting facing Miles Channing--she wondered who was
responsible for the fact that his chair proved to be next hers--saw his
eyes, as he glanced toward the rear of the car, follow Stuart and
Jeannette.

"He's a mighty nice fellow, isn't he?" he commented pleasantly. "Too bad
he isn't coming along. Seems tremendously interested in Jeannette, and
it's quite evident that she likes him--as much as is good for him. These
partings--well, I'm sorry for him. But he means to make the most of this
last hour. It would be unkind of us to follow them out there, wouldn't
it?--though I was about to propose going out when he stole a march on
me."

"It would be very unkind," agreed Georgiana gayly. "Yes, I wish he could
have the whole journey; he deserves a rest and change. He's one of the
finest men I know."

Now that Channing was beside her, with his handsome face and faultlessly
dressed figure easily the most attractive man in the car, she could not
begrudge Jeannette this final hour with Stuart, though her pride
smarted a little under the change in his manner toward herself. She had
read in her cousin's face, as Jeannette's eyes met Stuart's when she
first caught sight of him, that she was much more than commonly glad to
see him, and the observer had noted with what an air of joyous
comradeship the two had hurried, laughing, down the aisle to the rear
door after Stuart's proposal.

But the hour was soon over. It was not until the train stopped that
Jeannette and Stuart returned to the others inside the car, and then the
farewells were necessarily hurried. With a smiling face Stuart shook
hands with them all, leaving his best friend to the last, according to
the unwritten law of farewells.

When he came to her he looked very nearly straight into her eyes--not
quite--it might have been her lower eyelashes upon which he brought his
glance to bear.

"Great luck, Georgiana," he said distinctly, "and all kinds of a good
time."

"Good-bye, Jimps, and thank you very, very much for coming," she
responded.

It was hardly to be believed that James Stuart would not lower his voice
and murmur some last word for her ear alone, for this had long been his
cu